Tony and the Moose
by scousemuz1k
Summary: Follows on from Destina. Tony's travels, and eventually where he ends up.
1. Chapter 1

Tony and the Moose

by scousemuz1k

 **AN: This was supposed to be a single shot epilogue to 'Destina', but a few kind people mentioned the ADVENTURES – plural - of Tony and his motorbike. So I sat down and gathered some scattered thoughts together… the only problem is that I found it very hard to organise them into a coherent time-line. Anyone surprised? Don't answer. First chapter…. A bit of a meander, really. Proseac and I didn't know we were doing research for this tale on the two marvellous visits I've made to Canada and the USA. Neither did Binkeybella! So apologies if it reads like a travelogue – some of the places mentioned are places we went and enjoyed. No harm in having Tony enjoying them… ;)**

 **Anyhoos, I know that a lot of people don't care for stories written with lots of flashbacks and recollections – too confusing. Sorry… I've tried to be as clear as possible!**

 **I'll explain about the about-face re the gun, in a later AN, or this one will go on for ever.**

He loved that first moment of waking; when you knew only that you were warm, comfortable, rested, and without a care in the world. You were hazy on such things as who you were, or what you were doing there; this was of course before the real thinking began, and life began to poke away at the lovely, warm bubble.

He opened one eye. Sunshine was forcing itself past the dark blue curtains, helped by a light breeze coming through the open window. There was no sound of traffic outside and the air smelled fresh, so he didn't bother to grope for his watch. It was early. He closed the eye again. He was _retired_ , he was in Niagara on the Lake, Ontario, at the lovely old inn, the Olde Angel, the world was his oyster, and today was Tony DiNozzo's fortieth birthday.

He rolled over, stretched, and curled up again. Time to go through the checklist, as he'd done every morning since he'd ridden Destina out of the Navy Yard, quite possibly never to return.

Check 1: Deep breath. Careful analysis of how that felt – it felt good.

Check 2: Firm reminder that he did NOT have to get up at the crack of dawn to go into work – it felt _damn_ good!

Check 3: This was where life began to do that poking thing… A very firm reminder that he did NOT have to spend his time worrying about how Gibbs was feeling. He'd tried all that for months, or was it years? Gibbs was his own problem now, not Tony's – that felt bad, and he dared say it always would, but it wasn't his fault and he was moving on. It still felt good.

Check 4: It didn't matter that he didn't know where he was moving on to – the rudderless feeling was gone. He might not know now, but he didn't doubt that he _would_ know in the end. Life was good. Life really _was_ good. And since he couldn't remember a time, since he left Ohio State, when that had truly been the case, even although, (never mind check 3,) he _did_ worry about Gibbs, he was going to hang onto that glorious feeling.

He lay dozing for a while longer, simply because he could, until his stomach reminded him melodiously that this was the time of day when it expected to be filled. Fifteen minutes later, showered and comfortable in T shirt, jeans and sneakers, he headed down to check that Destina was still safe where he'd left her, and look for some breakfast. Over a Full English, he made plans to walk around the town for a while, and visit places he'd read about like the fudge shop, the Christmas shop, the apothecary and the Native Canadian art gallery. He'd even heard of a shop that sold jam and marmalade. He had to see that. And Sunset Beach… that sounded _so_ Hollywood… but it looked good on Google Earth, so he'd go there too. - then down into Niagara Falls to do touristy things like eating a beavertail with maple syrup.

As he neared the end of his meal, his young server came over to top up his coffee, and he wondered why another girl came with her. It took two to fill a coffee mug? The other waitress produced a side plate with a large cupcake on it. Stuck in the cake was an American flag, and a lit candle. They sang 'Happy Birthday' - and they knew his name - in breathless giggles, so he obligingly blew the candle out.

"How did you know?"

"Louise heard you talking about it on your phone last night, when she served your dessert, and she didn't like the thought of you having no-one to wish you 'Many Happy Returns', so – Many Happy Returns!"

He was touched, so he stood up and hugged them both, and took a selfie with them. They went off, still giggling. Tony sat down again, took a long sip of his coffee, and shook his head with a smile. He loved Canadians.

o0o0o

 _Flashback: two days after Tony retired…_

"You know you don't have to go yet, don't you? You're welcome to stop here as long as you need to..."

Tony smiled his thanks. "I know, Breena. You and Jimmy have already done enough for me -"

"Tony, the apartment and the Mustang – it's the other way round!"

He reached out and squeezed her hand. "Well, we're quits, then, if we're counting. Which we're not. No... everything's sorted, and I'm itching to be on the road." They heard the front door opening.

"Bree? Tony?"

"In the kitchen, love!" Jimmy came in beaming all over his face, and kissed his lady in greeting. She looked at him quizzically. "What's the big grin about?"

"What big grin? Oh, _my_ big grin. I've been talking to Liz."

" _Agent Gibbs. How can I help you?" Hmm, I rather expected this. I'm not sure I expected Miss David as well._

" _You can tell me what's going on! Where's the Director gone with my agent? Why was he up here half the afternoon?"_

 _I have a name, Liz thought. It would be polite for you to use it… huh, I don't suppose you even know it! "Agent Gibbs, you'll really have to ask Director Vance that."_

" _I just did! He won't tell me what's going on with my agent!"_

 _Liz waited, as she heard Vance's returning footsteps._

" _He's not your agent any more, Gibbs," the Director said as he re-entered the office. "He's not even_ _ **my**_ _agent. He_ _retired, officially, as of this afternoon. He needs to look after his health, as he can't count on anyone else to do it."_

" _What? What's that supposed to mean?"_

" _Think about it, Gibbs. You left him to deal with a lung-sick man. He got sick himself as a result. He got back to work, and got damn-all understanding of the situation from either of you. He doesn't intend to die of chronic lung disease before he's fifty – which Dr Pitt has warned him was a possibility - so he took the best course of action he could, and got out. He restrained himself from spitting in your eye first. Does that answer your question? I'm beginning to doubt your abilities as a team leader!"_

 _Gibbs' jaw worked, but he didn't speak._

" _So..." Ziva said in a puzzled tone, "He has already gone?"_

" _I believe he went down to say goodbye to Miss Sciuto," Vance told her. "But broadly speaking, yes, he has."_

 _He wasn't surprised when Gibbs stormed out of the office without another word, with the Israeli agent trailing in his wake. He and Liz shook their heads at each other._

Tony tried not to feel satisfied – even a bit vengeful - by what Jimmy told him; schadenfreude is not a nice emotion, after all. He was still amazed that Vance had gone in to bat for him in the way he had. But somewhere down inside, the pain eased a little. Someone had told Gibbs what was what, when he hadn't been able to find the energy to. There was still no clue as to why Gibbs had turned on him the way he had, although he felt that he knew. The other thing that he knew was, he'd learn not to care.

"Liz sent you this," Jimmy said, producing a glass jar from his backpack. Tony took it reverently; Manuka honey. Wow, Liz… "She also said I was to give you a hug and a kiss from her, but I think Bree had better do that."

o0o0o

The first place Tony had travelled to was in completely the opposite direction from the one he intended to take eventually; he headed down to Norfolk to see McGee. On impulse, he'd ridden out via Annapolis and the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, down the peninsula, and over the bridge/tunnel, simply because he never had before, and he felt like it. Destina was having an effect already.

Now they were sitting on the balcony of the tiny apartment Tim had been assigned the use of during his stay. Tony had brought the obligatory beer, rightly guessing that Tim wouldn't have had the time or the inclination to go booze shopping. There was hardly a thing out of place, he'd noted with heavy approval.

"Well observed," Tim had snorted, falling into the old banter immediately. "Get up, shower, get over to the US Navy supply Center at Craney Island. There are nice young seaman apprentice ladies who bring you breakfast so you can start working immediately. They bring you lunch, and honestly, there are no laws against _stopping_ to eat it, but there's so much to get through." He grinned. "Mind you, another two weeks and we should know it all. The trap's closing… so it should be, the work the team's put in. We _may_ go for a meal in the evening, but usually we just look at each other, and shrug. Too damn tired. Back here, sandwich, watch TV for a bit, fall into bed. Rinse, repeat. I'm not here enough to make a mess. It was _great_ to quit early today when you let me know you were coming.

"So, I'm your get out of jail free card," the older man said with a grin.

"Stoppit. No, that's not the only reason I'm pleased to see you." Now he waited somewhat anxiously to hear what Tony had to say.

The older man took a deep breath; Tim absently drank his beer straight from the bottle, hardly tasting it as he listened.

"Didn't think it was something I could do on the phone, Tim..." Tony said finally. Not a grin now, not a nickname, Tim noted, and after what he'd just been told, he wasn't surprised.

"I heard today that Gibbs has been making waves to get me back to DC the last couple of days," he told Tony. "Now, I guess I know why." It had been plain as day that things were wrong, and he hadn't really wanted to leave the Navy Yard and come down down here, leaving someone he considered a friend, to fend for himself.

Tony read his look. "Not. Your. Fault." he said firmly. "Tim… I came down here to – I dunno – say what you've probably already figured out. Things are going to be different, and I've no idea how. You'll either be his blue-eyed boy, or his replacement whipping boy. I just wanted to say – if that's the case, _don't_ wait as long as I did to cut yourself loose."

He looked at Tim in wide eyed surprise as his one-time probie said flatly, "I'm thinking about doing it now."

Tony looked down at his hands as they rested loosely on his knees, for a moment, then he looked up again and said seriously. "Not telling you what to do, Tim… I did say _if_ , and _if_ he blames me for Jenny's death, and _if_ me being gone solves the problem, things might be OK. He might need you."

Tim shrugged. "Maybe. He should have thought about needing people before he drove you out."

They'd ordered takeaway, got mildly drunk, and talked about other things until they began to nod. Tony had curled up on the sofa, and next morning he watched Tim going into the 'get up, shower' routine like an automaton. Tony washed in the kitchen sink. When the young agent came out of the bathroom, more like a functioning human being now, he'd tried to find the right words, but found himself hopelessly tongue-tied.

"It's OK," Tony told him. "Whatever you do, you'll decide right. Look..." he lifted something out of his back-pack. "Will you look after this for me?" It was his Sig and holster.

"Shit, Tony..."

"I can't really take it with me, got to get used to living without it, but I don't want to turn it in after Vance swung it for me." Tim just nodded. Tony moved to the front door. "And here's my new phone number. You, Jimmy and Vance are the only ones who have it. I've got my laptop – if you want to talk Gibbs things, or anything, just skype me." They looked at each other, eyes filling ridiculously. A quick hug, and Tony was gone. A few moments later, Tim watched the black bike and its rider purring away up the street.

Work. Come on, work… Damn Gibbs.

o0o0o

Tony sat on Sunset Beach, remembering; it was still early morning, as it had been then, three days ago. He scrolled through the photos on his phone, recalling the journey. He'd headed north-west, and then north, into the Shenandoah National Park, avoiding towns and travelling by minor roads. Over the course of those three days, he'd taken himself through as many National parks as possible, stopped frequently to look at anything that caught his eye, eaten when he'd spotted a pleasant diner, and used an app on his phone to find decent places to stay.

He looked at a picture of one of them, in northern Pennsylvania. He'd parked Destina safely; (she had the most amazing immobiliser, and he was almost wishing for somebody to try to steal her so he could watch their faces,) and gone for a walk beside the Allegheny before returning to the motel to get a meal. He'd fallen into conversation with the proprietor, who was a friendly type, a good talker and a good listener. As Tony sat on his tall stool at the bar, after a really good steak, the man, ' _Oh, call me Pop, everyone does,'_ had drawn out of him the story of his road trip. Well, the physical story, anyway. He was gradually sloughing off all things Gibbs, and wasn't going to talk about him.

Pop had been interested in Tony's avoidance of towns. "Ya have to use the freeways sooner or later, Tony. Open that nice bike up a bit."

"Well, yes, I guess. But I've been on some good roads, and had them to myself. Gonna have to use the freeways to get to the Peace Bridge, of course."

Pop shook his head. "Hey, no. Well, not if you take my advice! You have to go through an awful lot of Buffalo to get to the Peace Bridge… it's a mighty good place to visit, but not to drive through. Nothing to see on those roads… Listen, you head further north, go through the Iroquois Wildlife Refuge, and head for the Queenston-Lewiston Bridge. Still freeway, but much nicer scenery. And take in Medina – friend of mine runs a real nice cafe in the old shirt factory on West Centre Street. Tell her I sent you!"

So he he'd done that, taking his time, unwinding with the roads. And, with something in his mind about a Christmas Shop in Niagara on the Lake he'd heard about, (which he couldn't be this close to and not visit,) when he'd crossed into Canada, he'd turned right as soon as he could get off the toll road, and here he was.

He took his shoes and socks off. (He'd left the leathers in his room and just wore jeans. He wasn't going far.) He pulled up the legs of his jeans, and went for a paddle about in the water's edge, before deciding to head back. He was happy as a kid when the bascule bridge at Lock 1 on the Welland Canal went up as he approached. At home on Long Island he was lucky if he saw a ship in the distance - on the rare occasions he got to the coast – and he watched the towering steel transport ship go slowly past with an excited smile hidden inside his helmet. Lord, he felt so _different_ these last few days!

Leaving Destina safely at the inn again, he dropped his helmet off in his room, and headed off to see the sights he'd promised himself. As he wandered, he thought how English the town was, and how his mother would have loved it. So he bought himself a tiny crystal angel from the Christmas shop to remind himself of her – even though he'd told himself over and over that he shouldn't buy souvenirs anywhere on his travels. Destina's pods had their limits.

Just as he was leaving the fudge shop – well, he wouldn't need to pack that – his phone buzzed. Text.

 _Hey Tony, Many Happy Returns! Get yourself down to the Zip-Line by the falls, I've just booked you a trip for your birthday. I said you'd be there around 1pm. Enjoy! Black Lung._

Wow. He was really going to be doing the tourist stuff. Right… if he walked briskly to the WeGo terminus, and hopped on one of the huge bendy buses, he could make it. He didn't suppose there was an exact time anyway. If he took Destina he'd have to carry his helmet round all day. The Zip line! He wondered if it would feel like his involuntary parachute jump, not so many years ago. He began to think about that being in the days when he and Gibbs got on together, and for a moment his mood threatened to plummet, but then that pleasantly excited feeling that had been hovering all day settled again. _It's my fortieth birthday, and I've had a cake, and been sang to, and I've got a present, and I feel like a kid again. Double wow._

As he sat on the bus, he tapped out a thank you to Jimmy, with a promise to let him know how it went, and looked up where to find the Zip-line. Apparently it went from the top of the Niagara Falls boat trip building; the bus had a 'next stop' display, but the highly skilful lady driver called the stops out anyway, so he wasn't going to miss it. He looked across the river to the USA side; he could already see the American Falls in the near distance. _'Goodbye, home… don't know when I'll be back..'_

The bus came to a gentle stop, and the door hissed open. Tony stepped off, and wandered first of all towards the low wall and railings at the top of the escarpment, to look at the breathtaking sight of the two – OK, three if you counted the small one at the end – waterfalls. He stood for a few minutes, then remembered what he was here for. He turned and headed back towards the boat pier, but that didn't seem to be the right place either, so he walked on a little way further, to the tall black tower with its big letters, ZIP LINE TO THE FALLS, that he really should have seen in the first place. As he looked up he was only vaguely aware of people standing at the foot of the tower, but he dragged his eyes back to ground level because something…

"Finally," a voice said.

"Tony, you're gawking like a tourist," another added, and Tony's jaw fell open.

Tim and Jimmy stood there grinning. "We're coming with you," Jimmy said.

Tony went all Tackleberry. "You guys..."

 **AN: Tackleberry – Police Academy, remember? Sorry for the travellogue – next chapter NOT travellogue, and reintroducing two characters from a previous story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Minimum of travelogue – after Fort Erie we're on to places I've never been anyway!**

Tony and the Moose

chapter 2

He decided that he wanted to see _all_ of the Great Lakes, _and_ the little one. 'Why?', his friends had asked him as they tucked away a great birthday dinner in a corner of the inn. 'Why not?', he'd asked back.

"I've been to Detroit, but not seen Lake St. Claire. I went to Chicago for a case a couple of times when I was with Peoria PD, but never got anywhere near the lake. You'd think… I mean, it's big enough… never mind." (He'd been too busy the first time, and left in an ambulance the second.) "And I've never been far enough north to look at Lake Superior. What's that look, McFace-pull?"

Tim straightened his grimace, and his shoulders. "I'm kind of wishing I could come with you!"

"Ah." Tony nodded. Tim had explained earlier that he'd finished with the fraud case earlier than expected, when the first suspect to be arrested caved under interrogation, and had told the Director he needed a couple of days break before returning to DC, which was how he'd made it to Ontario for Tony's birthday. (Vance had approved, even though Gibbs was agitating for McGee's return, figuring first that he'd earned it, and then that he'd _need_ it.) "Well, you'll know where to find me. And if you need to explode, and Jimmy's not nearby, call me."

Now it was Tim's turn to nod. "Mmm. You might see me some time if I need an escape. I'm back with Gibbs first thing day after tomorrow, and you _did_ warn me you had no idea what I might find. Neither have I. Let's change the subject..."

They'd drunk enough Canadian beer to be happy, and not enough to stop Tim and Jimmy from walking back to their own hotel. In the early morning they'd returned for breakfast, and headed down to Fort Erie to begin Tony's Lake Viewing quest. After visiting the Fort, counting beautifully maintained Martello towers, and eating Beaver-tails for lunch beside the lake, they parted rather reluctantly, and the two younger men headed back in their rental to Buffalo airport.

Tony waved them off with strangely mixed feelings. It was time to be alone again; he needed it, he had healing to do. But he felt the tug of good friendship, and was deeply grateful for it. Jim and Tim… Tim and Jim… they'd played with it last night as they'd discussed the relative merits of Molson and Kolkanee. They'd come to the conclusion that JimTim rolled off the tongue better than TimJim, and Tony was silently grateful that the two seemed to be well on the way to a firm friendship. Tim would probably need a friend, and he was sad that he could only be one from a distance.

o0o0o

Destina ate up the miles – no, it was kilometres – as Tony meandered through the towns with English and Scottish names - he could tell JimTim he'd been to London! He found it was difficult to get close to Lake St Claire because of residential areas and wildlife reserves, (he didn't want, with his leathers and his USA licence plate, to be noticed as a stranger and thought to be up to no good,) but he found it easier as he travelled further north. Tick off a third lake.

Well, since he was heading north, he decided to go the whole hog. Heading back to highways, he roared up the Bruce Peninsula, to that most Scottish of names, Tobermory, and checked into the motel with still enough evening light to take a walk and admire Lake Huron. There, lake number four.

He scrambled down onto a stretch of stony lake-shore, sat down on a rock, and let his thoughts wander. After a while he realised he was making a checklist, and at first he thought that was a bit of a maudlin thing to do, until he also realised that although it was with regret, it was without the self-pity that he despised. He picked up a pretty white stone from beside his feet.

 _Kate…_ We fought like cat and dog – but you stayed with me when I was dying. I loved you… maybe we'd have been _in_ love one day. Not meant to be… he lobbed the pebble gently into the lake. He was surprised at how strong the feeling of comfort was that washed over him, almost as if she'd squeezed his shoulder. He reached down and picked up a handful of pebbles, which took some time as it was a beach of stark, eroded rock, not shingle, but as he gathered them, an idea was forming. Again, he chose the prettiest ones.

 _Paula…_ you told me to tell… _Jeanne…_ Loved you both in different ways; that's how I'll remember you. Regret for the one, guilt for the other. Put it behind you. Two pebbles entered the water and left interlinking ripples.

 _Jenny…_ you caught me in your web… so the next time, I obeyed orders and _didn't_ get involved… and you died. Dying anyway… would anything I did have made the slightest difference? Let it go… Another pebble.

 _The plague…_ well, wasn't that what he was doing here? He found a big chunk of dark rock, stood up and hurled it as hard as he could, taking great satisfaction from the splash as it hit the water.

 _Kody…_ Well that one was a positive. He _could_ have got Gibbs blown up, and he _couldn't_ say he'd had much help from anyone, well, Jenny or Ziva, in making sure that didn't happen, but he did it, and saved Kody's life as well. He lobbed a pebble high into the air, so it made a graceful curve before dropping into the lake almost vertically.

 _Jeffrey White… being framed for murder… Renny…_ so many memories...the pebbles dropped into the water like drops of rain as he let things go. _Gibbs' dead eyes as he pulled him out of the submerged car…_

 _Gibbs…_ he didn't think he had a rock big enough.He found he was still holding a small, black pebble, and he thought of Abby's dark lipstick. He laid the stone back on the ground; he wasn't going to throw Abby away. Sure, she loved Gibbs more than she loved him; but hadn't he always known it? He was glad that his ex-boss had someone to love him so unequivocally, since the old bastard made it so damn difficult for anyone to care for him at all. He left Gibbs in Abby's hands.

He was still surprised at how much better he felt. He took a deep breath, catching the slight whiff of marine diesel on the air, and was reminded why he'd chosen the mountains, not the coast. He'd leave tomorrow. Leave all the stuff he'd sunk in the lake, and head on out.

The next day he took the ferry to Manitoulin Island, two hours of sailing past beautiful scenery in beautiful weather, and spent the day pottering about, then over bridges to the mainland, more of the same, stunning thing. He was heading, ultimately, for Wyoming, intending to visit two old friends he'd always kept in touch with, and the easiest way back into the USA was via Sault Ste. Marie. He didn't want to do the city twice, so he spent two days chugging around local roads, heading inland, drinking in the scenery, before turning west to the coast again. He fancied that Destina's low-rev – well, comparatively low-rev purring meant that she was happy to be with him, adding to the previous adventures he knew nothing about. All he did know, from the salesman, was that she had belonged to a couple from Anapolis, in their late fifties, and both medical professionals, who'd reluctantly decided that they should get 'a means of transport with four corners and a roof'.

Lake Superior, lake number five; vast, blue and breathtaking… another break spent walking by the water, on a sandy spit, thinking about Gibbs. This was the one thing he couldn't completely lay to rest, no matter what he told himself. He knew what had started the rot; working for Jenny and not telling Gibbs when he returned. No choice. Jenny's death. Not his fault. He was right to leave; Gibbs was his own problem, his health was _his_. He was good with all of that.

But… he hadn't been able to do anything to put it right. Round the circle again… he'd accepted he never would, and that was when he'd left. But he still wanted to. Watching the lapping water, he found a compromise. He couldn't do anything _now_ , but he would one day. He _would_ , one day.

He was walking slowly back towards his leathers, folded neatly on a rock nearby, when he heard a scream. He knew it well, and he swerved and left his gear, to run barefoot up the beach and back to the pull-over where he'd left Destina, as his bike screamed, in Abby's voice, "Tony! Tony! Someone's trying to steal me! Help!" He knew what he'd find, and as he watched the two young men's backs as they fled up the road on a rickety scooter, he wished he'd been closer, to see their faces.

He stuck his hand in his pocket to stop the sound with the remote on his key-fob, and checked that nothing had actually been tampered with, as a young couple with a toddler wandered over from their car, to say that they didn't really think they were going to try to steal anything, "But hey, they really should have known better than to touch anything!" the dad said.

They watched Destina for him while he jogged back to collect his kit, thankful that nobody had stolen that! Well, the choice between the clothing and the bike was a no-brainer, really.

He grimaced… he'd wanted to use his amazing alarm, that Abby had installed to work with the movement sensor of the immobiliser; well, he'd have to get used to hearing her voice and thinking of his old life.

He headed south, back into the United States, and down Highway 75, heading for Mackinac. There was a five kilometre long bridge at the narrowest point over the Straits, where the waters of Lake Huron and Lake Michigan joined, and he wanted to see that, even though it was a toll bridge, and he'd have to cross twice. Who cared… he was on vacation! He stopped at a place labelled Bridge View Park, obligingly viewed the bridge, and ticked off the last lake, then drove slowly across, thinking of a poem he'd learned in school. The Meeting of the Waters… he remembered the last two lines. ' _Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease, and our hearts like thy waters be mingled in peace'_ … get a grip, DiNozzo.

He found a place to stay with ease, and planned an early start tomorrow. He was restless, and no matter how he acknowledged that he would sometimes, and things _were_ better, he'd prefer that the peaceful periods were longer and the restless ones less frequent! He set out at first light; he supposed he was still used to early starts after so many years as a cop, and headed back across the bridge – and that was when things got weird.

There was the occasional vehicle heading south; it had been raining although it had stopped, and headlights reflected in pools of water on the opposite lanes, as well as his own. Even though this was the only traffic artery running due south, it was the wrong time of day for anything but the occasional truck. Maybe that was why he'd set out early.

He was across the suspension bridge, coming to where the ends of the cables were anchored down, and maybe a kilometre from land, when something pale caught his eye in the lamp light to his right. Somehow, he knew what it was at once – again, the years of being a law officer, and he groaned. He'd been here before… more than once. He coasted Destina to a stop, as close to the edge as possible, put his hazard lights on (this was _so_ dangerous,) took his helmet off, and approached with caution.

The young man standing up on the railing, holding on to a suspension cable, turned and looked at him, teetered a bit, and glared at him balefully. "Keep away! I'm going to jump!"

Tony held his hands out placatingly, as he thought fast, looking for an 'in'. "OK… I won't come any nearer. But hey… why don't you sit down?"

"S-sit down?" The dark haired young man looked at him as if he were crazy.

"Sure. You've been here a while, right?"

"How d'you know that?"

"Well, because it stopped raining an hour ago, but you're wet."

"Oh." The young man looked at his light green jacket, darkened in huge patches by rainwater, as if seeing it for the first time.

"So..." Tony said slowly, "you've been here for a while. Means you've not made up your mind. It'd be a shame to decide you want to stick around and then fall in anyway."

"I can swim."

"But can you dive?"

Again, the 'are you mad' look. "What difference does that make?"

"Well," Tony said thoughtfully, "from this height, unless you're a _very_ good diver, you'll hit the water like it's a sheet of concrete. You won't even have to drown!" The young man looked a bit sick. "Look," Tony went on, "what's your name?

"Oliver."

"Not Ollie?"

"No. Oliver."

"Well, Oliver, I'm Tony, and I'm going to sit down here. Why don't you sit down too." Tony sat down on the railing, with his feet firmly on the road. Very slowly, Oliver sat down, but with his legs dangling out over the water. Tony was relieved to see though, that he kept a firm hold of the cable. The young man was tall, but of skinny build, and shivering a little with cold. A puff of wind, as they say, like the slipstream of a truck, could blow him away. "That's good," the Italian said approvingly. "What if a truck comes by? Have you heard those air horns from close up? Don't want them startling you into the lake!"

"Why did you stop?"

"Are you really asking? I see someone thinking about jumping -"

"I'm – I'm going to!"

"OK… going to jump, and I just ride on by? How did you get here? Why didn't the toll keepers see you?"

"I walked out along the rocks, and then climbed up."

"Well, that shows initiative… so, Oliver, why do you want to jump? How old are you?"

"Twenty. And don't tell me I've got my whole life ahead of me – I've lost _everything_!"

Tony offered up a silent prayer that he was reading the young man right. A bit dramatic, maybe? If he was wrong, and this wasn't simply a highly-strung way of dealing with a bad situation, the boy could still jump.

"Everything? So… what counts as everything at twenty years old?"

"My girl! She betrayed me! She was only after one thing! She took it, and now I've lost everything!"

This was getting stranger. Don't jump to conclusions, DiNozzo. "So tell me about it then…"

It tumbled out so fast that Tony could hardly keep up. Oliver had invented a process for sorting recyclable materials based on suction, which didn't clog up when coping with soft plastics, as some systems did. His college tutor had advised him to patent it, as it could do well for him. He had the papers, but hadn't completed them yet. Donna, who he thought loved him, to whom he'd proudly shown the papers, who'd flattered him and told him how clever he was, had stuck a USB in his laptop and downloaded them. He hadn't seen her since.

"Have you filed an intent to patent?"

"Yes, but anyone can do that."

"OK… you know there's such a thing as forensic IT, don't you?"

"No… I'm not that much into computers… engineering's my thing."

"A good geek -"

"I'm a geek! I thought she loved me even though I'm a geek! I thought… she said... -"

"Nothing wrong with being a geek – people who aren't are just jealous of the brains - oh shit, Oliver, hang on!"

The truck whose engine had been faint in the distance, whose headlights hadn't seemed that bright in the dawn until it was on top of them, howled past, horns blaring just as Tony had warned. Oliver clung to the cable, screwing up his eyes, as the rig roared by, the shout of 'Moron!' lingering on the turbulent air behind it.

The young man whimpered, and opened his eyes again.

Tony opted for a bit heavier approach. "Oliver, you should have thought this through. Now, I'm pretty sure I'm not allowed to stop on this bridge, and I'm also pretty sure that that truck driver will report this when he gets to the toll booths. So, I bet the cops will be here soon, and I need you to decide you're _not_ going to take a dive off this bridge before they get here, or they'll close the bridge, cause chaos on both sides of the lake – hey, which lake? We're on the right side, so I guess it's Lake Huron you're thinking of jumping into -" He paused slightly, to see if Oliver would state his intention again, but he didn't. Tony hoped that was a good thing. He pressed ahead with whatever advantage that might mean.

"OK… what I was trying to tell you is, a good forensic IT specialist could tell quite easily when you first put your plans up, and exactly when they were downloaded, and know you did the work before she took it -"

"They could?"

"Oh yes. I _know_ a good guy – McGee his name is, we call him McGeek, and that's a compliment, he's so good. I can ask him if you like. But I figure anyone who knows what they're doing could prove you had the idea first. And don't you think your tutor will witness for you?" He took a deep breath. "Oliver, is it the loss of the work that's worse? Or the loss of the girl? Are you sure this isn't just a big, broken heart thing? Are you going to jump over a deceitful little thief?"

New tears began to trickle down Oliver's face, through the tracks of old ones. "I guess not… I thought she loved me..."

"Not the first, you won't be the last," the former agent told him, sounding calculatedly heartless. "My girl ditched me the day before the wedding, and I'm still here."

Oliver looked curious, and Tony really didn't want to explain, but he would if he had to. He was saved, as a police vehicle came barrelling down the opposite carriageway, and did an awkward, bouncing u-turn over the low central reservation. As it came to a stop, lights flashing, just behind Destina, the former agent held out a warning hand towards the driver, then turned his attention back to Oliver.

"Come on, Oliver. Get your legs back over this way." Behind him, he heard the car door open, and two sets of footsteps approaching, but slowly, and without fuss.

"I can't. I'll fall."

"No, you won't. Hang on with one hand, and give me the other. No, don't look down at the water. This side is where you want to be. Come on. Come _on_ now, hand."

A moment later a shivering hand was firmly grasped by his leather gauntlet, and two long legs in soaking wet drainpipe jeans were back on the road. Oliver looked pretty close to collapse, and as the officers approached, he almost shrank behind Tony.

The two policemen were about the same age, experienced men, and they looked Tony up and down. He knew he wasn't lacking in an air of authority any more than they were, but even so, he was surprised. "You carrying, Sir?"

"No. I can, but I'm not."

"Huh. Somebody want to explain?" Oliver nodded dumbly at Tony; the consequences of his actions were beginning to become clear to him.

Tony took pity on him and did explain, and the cop nodded, as his partner waved the occasional curious driver past. "First things first. Let's get off this bridge. We'll take Mr. -"

"W-w-ward."

"Mr. Ward. There's an admin building on the right by the booths; follow us and pull in there." He didn't say 'and don't attempt to drive off', but Tony heard it loud and clear.

"Sure," he said easily, not intimidated. If he were going to get a ticket for a moving traffic violation, fine.

Oliver looked petrified at the thought of going in the police car, but Tony said "Go on, it'll be warm. I'll be right behind." The young man nodded vehemently and did as he was bidden.

There was already an ambulance waiting in the parking lot as they pulled up, and Oliver stumbled off with the paramedics, without protest, to be checked over. The cop came over to Tony as he removed his helmet again.

"Fed, huh?"

Tony gave him another easy smile. "Retired. You'll have checked out my license plate – you'll know all about me by now, officer."

"Special Agent. Retired aged thirty-nine." It was phrased as a statement, but it was a question.

"Lung damage. I run like a girl these days. Taking some time and a road trip, to unwind."

The cop nodded understandingly. He looked towards the ambulance with a dry laugh. "Seems you've found yourself back on duty pretty damn quick!" He jerked his thumb towards the building. "I need you to make a statement. We can get coffee in there if you like." Tony hesitated, and looked towards the ambulance. "It's OK, his Mom's on her way. We won't let him go without _suggesting_ he thanks you."

"You'll make sure his mental state's checked over?"

"And get the forensic thing done. With any luck we'll get the girlfriend too." By now they were in the toll-keepers' break room, and the officer was making coffee. He handed Tony a mug, with a bunch of sugar sticks and a creamer pack.

"Thanks. Are you charging him?"

"I shouldn't think so. Not charging you, either."

"Well, hell, thanks again. You want to write my statement, or shall I?"

It took two minutes, and they headed outside again, and Tony found himself having to endure the effusive thanks of Oliver's mother, until an unsteady voice called from the back of the ambulance. He turned to where Oliver perched on the edge of a gurney.

"They want to keep me overnight… just to make sure I don't catch pneumonia." He looked at his knees, and laughed in embarrassment. "I think they want to check I'm not crazy."

"And are you?"

"No," Oliver said in a small voice. "And I won't do it again."

"That's all I need to know, then. Good luck with your invention." He patted the boy's shoulder, and headed back towards Destina.

The cop stuck out a meaty hand. "That was a good thing you did… maybe he wouldn't have jumped, maybe he would have fallen… maybe he'd have gotten flattened by a truck. Have a safe journey. Where to now?"

"Wyoming," Tony said. "Take me a few days. A week. Whatever."

"You going to look at Old Faithful?"

"Oh yeah. And looking forward to meeting up with a couple of old friends out there."

 **AN: Wonder who Tony's meeting in Wyoming? You'll know them.**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Now for the friends… and the gun explanation. I originally intended a minor, but important confrontation with a Canadian law officer, over Tony carrying a gun. A reviewer who, as a fire-arms expert, often comments when the rest of us write inaccuracies about weapons, reminded me that Canada, like my own country (where the private ownership of a hand gun is banned) is exceedingly strict about such things. Recalling exactly why the UK originally banned hand guns, and respecting Canada's views, I decided to not try to wangle something totally unrealistic (like SecDefs talking to each other specially for him) and the gun had to go!**

 **Whilst I was sounding out this chapter to a friend, (who knows my liking for and almost total ignorance about First Nations people and traditions,) wondering if Tony to the rescue AGAIN sounded contrived, since that and credibility are my two worst fears in writing, she made the remark that Tony was on a 'spirit journey'. Which is why things happen to him, and he changes things for the better…**

 **Absolutely monster chapter as I couldn't find anywhere to split it.**

Tony and the Moose

chapter 3

It was more than 750 miles to Sioux Falls, where he'd earmarked a modest motel simply because it was in a place called Tea, and he wanted to tell Ducky, so he took two days to get there. Highway 2 led out along the north shore of Lake Michigan, with glimpses through the trees and then some good, long and broad views of the water, so Tony thought he could properly tick off his sixth lake. After a while he struck inland, not wanting to head any further south, not hurrying, once again just enjoying the ride.

He stopped at Rib Mountain that night, again simply because he liked the name, and found that the Wisconsin River widened out at that point, so it was a pleasant place to walk in the evening. He didn't feel any desire to throw pebbles.

In the morning, he headed down towards La Crosse, along roads where fertile farmland crammed all the flat plains between rolling hills. Looking at the satellite pictures in his motel room the previous evening, he'd thought it looked like driving through the branches of a Christmas tree. Destina rumbled happily, and Tony felt an odd frisson of excitement as he crossed the Mississippi by the many bridges over the meandering channels at French Island. Another first! Sioux falls tonight, and tomorrow, he'd head for his destination, Laramie, and the long anticipated meeting with good, but seldom seen friends.

He was maybe ten miles from Tea, with the sun just beginning to dip, when his phone buzzed against his hip-bone.

" _Tony."_ No hi, old friend. Was there an edge to the far away voice?

"Bear! Thought it might be you. Hey, I'm on my way!"

" _That's good… good… Tony, where are you?"_

"Sioux Falls… be with you mid-afternoon tomorrow. Bear, what's up? What's wrong?"

" _Well… Tony, can you come right now? We really need you here. Hart's gone. Kidnapped -"_

Kidnapped?

"What?"

" _Yes, I know, crazy…"_

This was too important a conversation to have at 70mph, and Tony pulled off the highway as soon as he came to an off-ramp. _'_ _I mean, come on, Destina, I know I wanted adventure, but I_ _just had one.._ _._ ' He told himself not to be selfish, this was _Hart_ , came to a halt, and sat clenching his jaw anxiously as he listened.

" _They want me to lose a case, Tony! I can't convince them it doesn't work like that!"_

"Whoa, whoa, Bear. I know that, been there."

Tony knew that in the years since they'd first met, during a re-enactment at Fort Landau, the Arapaho brothers, his friends, Hart and Bear Mackie, had taken different paths. Bear had been stung by injustices he'd seen as a boy and young man, and had taken to law. He'd become an attorney and researcher who specialised in historic cases, such as posthumous pardons for people who'd been wrongly convicted of, and sometimes killed for, crimes of which they were innocent.

He was an expert in ownership disputes, and had acquired such a reputation for accuracy in his research, and for his determination to see justice triumph even more than the law, that both First Nations people and those from the Old World came to him hoping he could prove the truth of their claims. Now the guy on the wrong side of one such claim was trying to turn the odds in his own favour.

" _I can't make him understand that if I lose the case it'll be obvious I've thrown it… if I **could** do it to save Hart, even if it ruined my own career I would, but even if I could do it and get away with it, what'd happen when it was all over? He'd let Hart go? Sure, I mean, we know who he is, and what he did -"_

Tony tried to be calming, although his own heart was racing as Bear's frantic story came tumbling out.

"He's probably depending on you both saying nothing because it _would_ ruin your career…" _yeah, not on killing you both,_ "OK… Look, don't worry about telling me the rest of the story, it'll keep until I get there. I'm on my way. But I was just about to find the place I'd booked for tonight. I've ridden all day - "

" _I'm sorry, Tony,_ _I wasn't thinking -"_

"Hey! I'm just saying… I can't ride all night as well without a break. I'll get a meal, and an hour with my eyes shut – don't think I'll be able to sleep… Back on the road in three hours max, I'll be with you by dawn. Don't go dashing off anywhere, stay with Aleksa and the two of you keep each other calm. We'll get Hart back."

As he found the motel, checked in and then got a meal at the diner across the road, during which he made an important phone-call, Tony began by trying to calculate distance and time. He was going to have to break a speed limit or two; he was glad it was going to be dark, although that might make it difficult for the cops to see him, it wouldn't make it impossible! Looked like he was about to risk another moving traffic violation! He was right about not sleeping, and after an hour of trying to relax stretched out on the bed he'd rented for a whole night, he took to the road again.

He thought over the situation, and wondered what he'd find when he reached Laramie. Bear also taught Historical Research at the University of Wyoming there, deciding when he qualified at Ann Arbor not to return to Wind River, where he and his brother had grown up. He'd married Aleksa, the daughter of Polish immigrants. She was blonde, pretty, and smart, and now they had four month old Jasper, (conceived during a holiday in that town!) whom Tony had been looking forward to meeting.

Hart preferred the outdoor life. Unlike his brother, whose dark hair curled neatly to his collar, and who wore business suits (although he couldn't wait to shed them when he got home,) Hart's was long and straight, and he wore it scraped back in a pony tail tied with a leather thong. He'd long ago refused to consider going to university, heading out under the big sky as soon as he could escape the restrictions of high school. He'd been happy – until, quite simply, he married the wrong girl. She was Arapaho, like the brothers, but she wasn't an outdoor girl, and she wasn't content with life on the Wind River Reservation. She loved city life, and after failing to persuade Hart to move to Cheyenne, _'_ _There's always something going on there, nothing ever happens round here...'_ she'd simply gone herself, leaving only a string of debts behind.

The elder brother hadn't been able to endure the sympathy of parents, friends and neighbours, so he moved down to the high plains to be closer to the brother he missed. Now he lived out at a tiny hamlet in the Medicine Bow Park, and worked for an outdoor centre, where he taught about the flora and fauna of the region, and how to camp or hike safely and live off the land. He lived alone and nursed a broken, betrayed and very bitter heart.

' _He doesn't come over to see us very often,'_ Bear had confided in his friend a good few times, most recently when they were making arrangements for this visit. _'He seems fine when he's with us… I mean we'd never say told you so, but most of the time he makes excuses…'_

"Ah… things are still the same, then?"

" _I'm trying to find a way to ask him if he disapproves of what I do… or my wife… but what if he DOES? I don't really want to know..."_

"Hey, I'm sure it's just that he's still hurting about Dee… I'll talk to him if I get the chance."

" _Mmm...well… I don't know… Whatever – he IS looking forward to seeing you again. But he's just so different these days. I don't know how to help if I'm the problem."_

Well, Tony thought as he gunned his bike down the dark highway, in order to _talk_ to Hart, first they had to find him, and rescue him. He'd made a start; he was hoping he'd get a return call as he rode. He'd prayed that Tim wasn't still at NCIS when he'd called, it was mid-evening, but when did that ever mean they went home? They had a code – if Tim saw 'Des' in the caller ID, he'd answer with Tony's name if he was free to talk, and his own if not. The new SFA of Gibbs' team was only a few weeks into his duties, and while Tony was quite happy to be a vent or a sounding board, whichever Tim needed at the time, the mention of his name within earshot of the Boss would produce a variety of reactions, none of them nice.

" _Tony! Wasn't expecting a call until the weekend. Something up?"_

"You said it, McPerspicacious..."

He'd asked Tim to look up the case that Bear was about to plead in the morning, what time it would be called, the respondent's name, his cell-phone number, and location. He'd also asked for Hart's number and whereabouts, although he feared that if his kidnapper had anything about him, that phone would be switched off. If he were the guy, he thought grimly, he'd have someone else doing the dirty work, and stay well away from his victim himself. But then, he was thinking like a cop, with access (through a Tim-shaped back door) to certain resources, whilst he hoped that it wouldn't even occur to his target that such things existed, especially as Bear had – of course – been told not to go to the police, the only ones who'd have them.

He zigzagged across country, going flat out on country roads that were empty of anybody, including, he hoped, highway patrols, sticking to five miles over the limit when he used the interstate and slowing down if he saw anything remotely traffic-coppish. He clipped almost an hour off a nine-hour journey, joined the I80 that he already knew well from previous visits, and approached his destination from the east just before first light, feeling both weary and energised if that were possible.

It was designated a city, with its motels, car dealerships and ranch supply outlets, but Laramie, with its seared brown landscape, dry gulches, and not so distant hills, always gave Tony the strong impression that, at its heart, it was still a pioneer town of the High Plains. He almost looked for hitching-rails outside the inns as he passed, or now, two gunslingers facing each other at dawn in the middle of the street. He shook his head impatiently, and ran the vision down. He had reality to deal with.

Tim called, and brought reality into sharp focus.

" _Hammer versus Crofton,"_ he told Tony. _"First case of the morning. Hammer is the Native American, disputing land ownership with Crofton, third generation of English origins. He's a young guy, inherited the land, and the carpentry business on it, from his grandfather. The old man bought the land fair and square from an Arapaho Elder, who wanted to return home. The land was too windy, and not enough acres to farm, and the two men came to a fair agreement. Grandpa Crofton made use of the wind to build a sawmill, and Grandpa Hammer was happy about it._

" _Now Martin Hammer figures he can bully the young guy into accepting that his grandfather was cheated, and pay what he thinks is a proper price for the land. He hasn't a leg to stand on; there's plenty of proof in the research Bear's done."_

"You've been busy -"

" _Shush, Tony, there's more. Hammer owns a hunting shack, close to the disputed land. Not far from where Hart lives, too. Three people there right now, one with cell-phone switched on. Name of Robert Soke. Of no good character. Has a cousin likewise. He's received six calls from Hammer in the last twelve hours. What does that tell you?"_

"That we know where Hart is, and that you've been up all night, and you're at NCIS. No way could you have got the three people in the shack except by satellite. Tim, does Gibbs know?"

" _He grunted, said do what you have to do, and hung up in his usual way. Ten minutes later Abby arrived, she says she'll talk to you later, and five minutes after that, Fornell. We're down in the lab."_

Tony heard Abby's voice in the background, calling hi, and found himself touched that she wasn't grabbing the phone from Tim. As he was trying to find the words to say thanks, another, gravelly, familiar voice came on the line.

" _You've not called in the local police, DiNohtso."_

"Well, hi, Tobias, no. Not saying I won't, although Bear's been told not to."

" _Ack, don't they always say that."_

Tony actually laughed.

"Sure… But I'm not quite at Bear's place, still riding, so we've not made a plan yet. I don't know what the local cops are like. I mean… that is, I don't mean I don't trust them – I just don't know if they'd ignore me and Bear and go in mob-handed -"

" _So you're going to do this on your own? You're not even carryin'."_

"Tobias, I don't know what I'm goin' to do until I get there."

" _Figured so. You guys always did make it up as you went along. I reckon that's why Gibbs called me."_

"Yeah…" Tony said wonderingly. "Who'd've thought it?"

" _Look, DiNohtso… he's right. If you act outside the law, you're the ones in trouble. I can step in before you do that. You keep us updated, that's regularly, and I'll fix it with the local guys not to go in until we call them. And I'm trusting **you** to know when that is."_

Tony shook his head, as he switched his engine off and coasted up the road towards Bear's pleasant single storey house on the north edge of town. "So, you guys are going to sit in the lab and do fix-it things until this is all over?"

It was Abby who answered. _"Of course we are, Tony. You just tell us what you need. We miss you..."_

"I miss you, Abs. You guys… Thanks don't begin to – ah, I'll owe you for this forever… Hey, I'm here… I'll call you back, very soon. I promise."

" _Thank us when you've got Hart back. Bye!"_

He huffed a long sigh. He couldn't believe – yeah, he could, that Gibbs had involved Tobias. A senior Fed would be listened to way more than a retired one, or a young one like McGee for that matter; Gibbs _was_ right, and it was good of Fornell to turn out for him. He allowed himself a sad little thought that Gibbs staying himself would have been even better, then pushed it aside as he came to a halt. Bear and Aleksa were already running out to meet him.

There was more frantic urgency than the usual love of old friends in the group hug that greeted him; then it was a tumble of words. Amongst the 'thanks', 'made good time', 'coffee', 'Jasper's asleep', 'come on inside', one word stood out.

'Proof'.

"I never even considered you might need it," Tony told them as they went into the house.

"Martin said it'd only be our word against his and his friends," Bear said furiously. "But it won't be..."

He'd come up to Bear at the courthouse the previous afternoon, and smilingly told him to lose the case. When the lawyer had reacted with the expected outrage, Hammer had asked him when he last heard from his brother. Bear had tried to call Hart, without success – and then Hammer had pulled the older Mackie's leather hair thong from his pocket. 'Lose the case, or he'll be found floating in Lake Hattie," he said cheerfully, and walked away.

"My first instinct was to go after him and beat it out of him, where my brother was," Bear said harshly, as they sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee. "But there were lots of people around, and I thought it could be what he wanted. The case would sure have failed if the attorney for the respondent had gotten himself on an assault charge!"

Tony looked at his friends soberly. Both husband and wife sat in almost identical poses, hands curled round coffee mugs, shoulders hunched in tension. "So," he asked gently, "the proof?"

Bear smiled for the first time – a grim, triumphant snarl. "We were standing right under the security camera." His laptop was in front of him, and he turned it towards Tony.

Aleksa said, "Bear got a copy from the guard's office. He didn't tell me exactly what Hammer was saying, but I could make out quite a bit. See what you think."

Tony had the same reaction as he watched – the facial expression was clearly threatening, and both 'lose the case' and 'your brother' were pretty clear. Tony's phone was already in his hand.

"Tim. Sending you a video right away." The phone was jammed under his ear as he typed urgently. "Ask Abby to lip-read?"

"On it. Fill us in while we're waiting..."

A minute later, Bear was astonished to hear Martin Hammer's words, and his own, accurately repeated. "You're something else, Abby"

" _We aim to please. Go get your brother back; we'll hold the fort here."_

"Get your brother back," Aleksa said wildly. "We don't even know where to start!"

"Oh, I was coming to that," Tony said airily. "We know where he is." He was shrugging out of his leathers as he spoke, which saved him from a throttling by both Mackies. "Come on," he said reasonably, "when have I had the time to tell you? Have you guys still got the Ram?"

Bear nodded blankly, as Tony pulled regular boots out of his back-pack, and put them on. "We go now, while we've still got half light on our side, one truck with guys in is much the same as another if anyone's looking; we want this wrapped up before 9am, so I can come back and meet Jasper, and you can go and close that case. Not that it'll matter to the plaintiff, he'll be under arrest by then."

By the time he and Bear were dressed for a mountain hike, he'd explained, and both Bear and his wife were looking more hopeful. As the young Arapaho was backing the Dodge out of the garage, there was a plaintive cry from inside the house. Aleksa gave them both a short hug and a long look, and went back indoors, to attend to baby Jasper.

As Bear drove fast out towards Medicine bow, Tony fiddled with the ear jack and mike he'd removed from his helmet, and reconnected it to his phone. "Hey, McBackup, do we still have the satellite link?"

" _We'll get it back in about ten minutes. Nothing had changed when we lost it – two men moving around, one sitting down, not moving. Hart's probably tied up. I'll tell you if there's anything different as soon as we know. You're about ten miles out. Tony… you're not armed, are you?"_

"No… and I know they might be. Don't worry. Just let me know when we reach the bottom of the trail. How far do we have to hike?"

" _Less than a mile – all uphill though. Hope you've been working out..."_ The attempt at levity didn't last long. _"Be careful… I wish I could be with you."_

"Like old times..." He was surprised at just how intense the wave of angst at missing his friend felt.

Bear said quietly, "Tough without the people you care about, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah. And I did it deliberately, too… What about you and Hart? Is he still keeping his distance?"

"Yeah," Bear sighed. "It doesn't seem like he _hates_ me or anything; I mean, he isn't angry or distant when we _do_ get together… we just _don't_ get together as long as he can avoid it."

Tony thought of Aleksa's fierce, speaking look at her husband before she went back into the house; for some reason he thought of another pretty blonde girl, and how Jimmy was, sure as eggs is boiled, heading for the happy state of matrimony…

"Maybe he envies you." He said it as soon as he thought it, and wondered if it was just the most stupid thing he'd ever come out with, fuelled as it was, deep down, by some strange envy of his own. And even if, in spite of that he felt he could be onto something, he had no business putting such ideas in Bear's head.

His friend sighed again, but didn't say anything for a few moments. Finally, he nodded. "Hell… I hope not… I mean, what can I do about it? I wouldn't trade my wife and child for anything in this world… does that mean I'm heading for losing my _brother_? I can't…" He passed his hand across his eyes, and then remembered he was driving.

"Let's get him back first, worry about it later." They went over their rudimentary plan one more time, somewhat despondently, and fell silent until Tony's earpiece sprang into life again.

" _Five hundred yards ahead, on the right. Small patch of ground where you can park up. There's a post marking the beginning of the trail."_

"How d'you know?"

" _Google Earth, of course. Abby's got the satellite back, no change. The seated guy was allowed to stand up and go somewhere else – smallest room, we think! Now he's sat down again."_ Tony relayed the information to his friend, who pulled the truck over quietly.

" _I'm tracking your cells, both of you. Fornell wants to know shall he send in the cavalry yet?"_

"We _are_ the cavalry. Give us ten minutes, huh?"

They walked uphill in absolute silence until the shape of the shack formed in the pale half light, standing in a clearing, at exactly the same moment that Tim told them they were there. They crept towards the building, and voices became audible as they got close.

"… keep telling you, this was so badly thought out. The only thing you can safely do is let me go, and disappear back to Wind River." That was Hart.

"And I keep telling _you_ , your brother's going to throw that case, and you won't be able to say anything or he'll end up in jail. Perverting the course of justice, right?"

A third voice laughed scornfully. "Or maybe Hammer'll just tell us to chuck you in the lake."

"You'd commit murder? For the likes of Martin Hammer?"

There seemed to be a low voiced argument between the men the listeners outside assumed were the unlovely Soke cousins, one for getting the hell out, and the other for silencing their captive first. Hart's raised voice stopped them both.

"My brother won't lose the case."

"He'd better if he wants to save you!"

"We've had this conversation before. Several times tonight. You don't know my brother. He's a _brave_. He's one of the best guys you'll ever meet. He's too honest to do what Hammer wants, and he won't let anything happen to me. He'll find a way to fix both." The next thing Hart said was almost to himself, and Bear, standing outside in the pale light, had to clamp his hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying out. "And when he does, I ought to start treating him a bit better."

Bear looked at Tony, wide eyed, and the older man thought it was time to act before his friend lost it. He held up a stern warning hand, and then swept his arm round in a circle. Bear nodded, and took a deep breath. The former fed stood behind the shack door, as the attorney – what a team! - spotted a length of chain on the ground. He picked it up silently, and threw it hard against the wrecked pick-up truck that stood close by. The noise was as loud and satisfying as he'd hoped, and a moment later, a figure came barrelling through the door. Another moment, and the Soke cousin, Tony really didn't care which one, was neck-chopped down, and wouldn't be doing much for a while. One down.

A wary voice came from inside the scruffy shack. "Bobby? What ya doin'? Bobby?"

Tony peered into the room, saw another figure coming towards the door; no gun. Good. He stepped inside, and Hart's eyes widened. Then he grinned broadly. "Hey, Tony! Forest Brother!"

Tony grinned back at him, then at the other man. "Bobby's sleeping. Step away from my friend."

The Soke cousin drew a knife, and headed towards the bound man, but he never got there. A blur of brown jacket hurtled past Tony, growling, and pinned the man to the wall. Tony grabbed the hand with the knife as it flailed wildly, and twisted it hard until the blade fell and impaled itself in the floor. "Wow," he said admiringly, "you really are a bear!"

He twisted the arm he held, until it had the desired effect of spinning the man round; Tony propelled him towards the only other chair in the room and shoved him into it. "Sit there and shut up."

Bear had already pulled the knife from the floor and used it to cut the zip-ties that pinioned his brother's arms, and as Tony glanced back at them, they were hugging like a couple of grizzlies. "Hey, you two, first things first!"

Hart looked at his former captor. "Told you!"

They found a bundle of zip ties, and pinned the guy to his chair, hauled his groaning, mostly out of it cousin to the chair that had held Hart Mackie, and did the same for him, then looked around at each other and burst out laughing, until Tony's ear-jack came to life again.

"Hey! Everyone OK? We watched on the sat… you done?"

"Yeah, we're done, Tim. Thanks -"

Hart went all big brother. "You should call Aleksa," he said sternly. "She'll be worrying." There was no question in his mind of Bear not having told his wife what he was up to. Bear smiled, and pulled out his phone.

Tim spoke again in Tony's ear. "Vehicle stopped next to yours. Person with Martin Hammer's cell-phone ID heading up the trail. The cops are a couple of minutes behind."

"Thanks, Tim… I owe the three of you."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll sort it sometime. Abby says she's joining in next time we skype. Fornell says you owe him an Italian meal. Signing off now!" The line went dead.

"It's not quite over," Tony said. "Hey!" to the conscious Soke. "Does Hammer carry a gun?"

The man shook his head, but they weren't taking any chances. "Not a sound, you hear?"

They stood inside the doorway, silently waiting, until a smiling, whistling Martin Hammer came up the trail. No gun visible. Good.

He stepped into the room, and stood stock still, jaw dropping with shock. "Hi, Martin," the two Mackies chorused together. Hammer turned and fled – into the arms of two LEOs emerging from the trail into the clearing.

"Now it's over," Tony said. Hart draped an arm round his shoulders and hugged him, then turned to Bear.

"Hey…" he said awkwardly. "I've got things I need to say, Bro."

 **Phew… done. Next chapter will be a week or so, as I'm taking a wee holiday in Ducky country.**


	4. Chapter 4

Tony and the Moose

 **AN: I did my best with the Arapaho language, my efforts were respectful, even if inaccurat** **e. Why moose? I have a thing for them – I want a pet one…**

 **I** **know I said last chapter, but you know I'm hopeless at estimating.**

chapter 4

Tony never asked what the brothers talked about as they made their way down the mountain; he walked with the two LEOs and their three prisoners, calling Tim to offer profound thanks to all three of his DC back-up team as he went. Bobby Soke kept ranting about police brutality, until Tony had had enough.

"It's _fed_ brutality, asshole. You were taken down by a _retired_ fed and a civilian. And considering that you had my friend tied up and had just threatened to kill him, you're lucky that you got the minimum force necessary. If I'd let his brother loose on you, you'd have known about violence. If you want to sue me, go right ahead. I know one of the best lawyers in Wyoming." Soke shut up.

A second patrol car was waiting to take one prisoner, and Tony was taken up on his offer to drive Hammer's vehicle back so it wouldn't be left cluttering up a small parking lot. He found he was oddly pleased to have the easy acceptance of these local police officers; it wasn't like that in DC! His real motive was not to ride back with Hart and Bear, so they'd have more time to talk. He had no idea if they needed it, but when they regrouped at the Laramie police HQ, it was obvious to him that he was seeing more of the young braves he remembered so well from almost ten years ago.

Aleksa had called her mom to sit with the baby, and ran in just as they all arrived, and Tony caught the look of pride on Bear's face, as his wife, without resentment for the cold-shoulder they'd both been getting, and with her priorities straight, ran straight to his brother, threw her arms around him and hugged him.

"Hart! I'm so glad you're safe!" Hart looked a bit nonplussed at first, but then gave in willingly enough, and returned the embrace, until Aleksa let him go and went to hug her husband. Tony affected a put out sulk, until Bear nudged his wife, and he got _his_ hug.

o0o0o

After the court case that morning was dealt with very quickly; (the plaintiff's lawyer having been called off to visit Hammer in custody, his junior withdrew gracefully,) they all decided to go up to Wind River to see the brothers' parents. It took a day to arrange, with Bear setting his office up to manage without him, and Hart making sure no courses were booked for him to lead for a few days. ' _Hell_ ,' his Boss said, ' _if I'd been kidnapped and tied up in a shed, I'd need some time off!'_ During that time Tony caught up on lost sleep, or covertly observed the brothers, or had to put up with being effusively thanked by them. He didn't know whether his hunch about envy had been right, but whatever, Hart seemed to be dealing with it. He'd find out soon enough; he was just happy to see it, and wasn't going to push.

o0o0o

Hazel and Moss Mackie lived at the tiny, far flung community of Kinnear, where they both worked for the same company; Moss as an irrigation engineer, Hazel as a nurse. Their comfortable, one storey house was a little way off Highway 26, (which Tony was excited about because keep going and it became 191- and you got to Yellowstone…) He'd looked at the place on Google earth, as was his habit – as well as a massive irrigation project, there was a roundish, ink-blot shaped lake a couple of miles wide, with turquoise water, which he guessed was why it was called Ocean Lake. There was a spit of land projecting out into the water in the south-west; looking at it close up it looked like a dog's barking head. From higher up…. Well, he'd never, ever tell anyone what it reminded him of. Really, Anthony...

Both Mackies were standing eagerly at their door waiting for their visitors; it wasn't often that they got both boys at once, and now they were getting the friend they'd spoken of so frequently, but whom they'd never met. They were also, Hazel remarked hopefully to her husband, going to see some sort of sea-change in their elder son, whom they'd spent a year worrying about and seldom seeing.

Tony had had to pull over and wait several times, taking in the landscape, sometimes burned brown, sometimes lush green because of the irrigation. The Ram moved at a more sedate pace, mostly out of respect for the sleeping baby, and he didn't want to arrive before the family, so now he and Destina purred gently in behind the truck. There were hugs and greetings, (including a huge one for Tony from Hazel,) laughter and smiles all round, and a blinking Jasper was handed to his Gran to be cooed over. Moss, strong and stocky like Hart, gave Tony a twinkling eyed once-over.

"So you're the young man who keeps leading my boys off on hare-brained adventures? As if they need any encouraging?"

Tony took it in the spirit it was meant, and smiled wryly. "Well, I guess I _was_ young when it all started. They helped me out… couldn't stop them, really… this, this was different, though."

Moss stuck out a strong hand. "No telling what would have happened to Hart without you," he said. "Or Bear. It would have hurt him almost as much to sink his principles as if something _had_ happened, although he wouldn't have hesitated… either way things were bad. We owe you."

Tony shook his head deprecatingly. "Hart told that Soke guy that Bear would find a way to rescue him and not lose the case. He was right. Sure… I rescued Hart – with help – but I didn't have anything to do with putting his head back on straight. And anyway, friends don't keep tabs. Ten years ago, they accepted me… befriended me even… you know? Maybe I owe them, Mr. Mackie."

"Moss. Come on, food's ready." The meal was being carried out to a table under a shady tree. "Or… you might want to go inside and change out of all that leather stuff first!"

Tony agreed it would be a good idea, and did so quickly, so as not to keep everyone waiting for lunch. The afternoon passed in good conversation, and while the subject of Hart's exile never came up, Tony caught many a happy look between Hazel and Aleksa as they watched someone they loved mending himself in good company.

After a while, Hazel brought Tony a cold drink, and sat beside him. As he thanked her, she said without preamble, "Moss says you don't think you had anything to do with Hart coming back to us."

"Hazel, I didn't. All I did was get him away from the bad guys and leave him plenty of space to talk to his brother. Looks like they did."

"That counts as having something to do with it as far as I'm concerned. They both talked to me yesterday… you were catching up on your lost sleep, apparently… Hart said he was in such a state he didn't even know how to talk to females any more… and he couldn't stand to see someone else's happiness, but he didn't want Bear to think he grudged him it, so he stayed away, even more once Jasper arrived!"

"And the more he stayed away, the harder it got to change things. Hard for an intelligent person to understand why they get into that state and then can't get out. Which just makes it worse."

"You're right," the First Nations woman said ruefully. "It's like the rabbit who jumped into a hole, to hide from the hawk, you know? At first the hole seemed safe, but then it was such a small, narrow place to be."

"So he wanted to jump out," Tony agreed, "But he couldn't see over the top, and he didn't know what was out there, so maybe he was safer where he didn't like to be, so he went round and round inside the hole -"

"And dug himself further in," the softly spoken woman said. "He's out now, and it has _something_ to do with your coming."

Tony shrugged. "Maybe he knew he was going to _have_ to talk to me, cuz I'd just push until I got an answer. My partner at NCIS used to call me DiNosy. But you know, we were listening outside the hut where they were holding Hart, and we heard him say he'd do something. To fix things with Bear. It wasn't me, Hazel. He'd already decided to jump out of his hole."

She nodded, and looked at him seriously. Hazel Mackie, Tony thought, had eyes that could see right down into your soul. Not like Gibbs, who glared at you wanting to think he could read your thoughts – this lady was the real deal. He found his heart beating a little faster under that look, but he didn't feel threatened.

"I _think,_ " she said delicately, "that _you_ jumped out of yours."

Just for a moment, all the weariness he'd driven half way across North America to escape, threatened to land on his shoulders again. No… he wasn't having that - he shoved it off again, hard, and what do you know, it wasn't difficult.

"Oh, Hazel," he sighed, "I rather think I was pushed."

"Mmm… you'd still be there if it wasn't for your lungs?"

Tony thought of what Abby had said about Destina and the open road. "Ah… no, I guess not. Or I'd have one foot out of the door. You're right, I was on my way. OK… I jumped. I couldn't stay in that hole."

"Tony, you're on a Spirit Journey," the Native woman told him with such absolute certainty that the instant denial that began to spring to his lips died away.

Utterly astonished, Tony could only ask, "What makes you say that?"

"You've seen things. Done things. Changed things in a good way."

"Well, yes… er, I mean… Hazel, how do you _know_?"

"It's written all over you. You started long ago; it's only now that you're really noticing. Do you know your destination?"

"The mountains somewhere. BC maybe."

"Are you bothered that things aren't clearer than that?"

"No..." Tony said truthfully, "And I don't care how long it takes to find out."

Hazel smiled. She took both of his hands, and held them together between her own. "You see?" He did, sort of. "Tony, the thing you need to know about a spirit journey is that it _does_ come to an end. The spirit isn't meant to wander forever."

"How will I know?"

"It's not always the same for everyone, _Hookootenowoo_. But you'll know. You'll be whole, and you'll be happy. And Tony, when that happens, you let me know, and I'll say I told you so." She paused. "I should fetch more cold drinks; it's a warm day." She smiled, got up and went back into the house, leaving Tony sitting there, stunned.

He was trying to work out what that Arapaho word was, get his tongue around it, when Hart ambled over, a wedge of corn bread in one hand, a light beer in the other. Tony found dark eyes, like his father's, regarding him quizzically.

"I see you've been talking to my Mom. You've met the force of nature that is Hazel, she leaves everyone with that WTF look on their faces. In the nicest possible way. She's already reamed me out – in the nicest possible way – for not talking to her when I was 'down the hole'! I couldn't say 'Aw, Mom', cuz I knew she was right. I said I was sorry for everything I'd put her through, and she said there was nothing to forgive, and meant it, but mind you if she ever met Dee again, she wasn't making any promises. That's Mom."

"You can say her name now," Tony said, and Hart looked surprised.

"Hey, yeah. Well, that's an improvement."

He could see Tony had something else on his mind. He waited, until Tony shook his head ruefully, and took a deep breath. "She said I was on a Spirit Journey." Hart didn't look surprised. "I think she called me an Arapaho name… sort of horgortenerwar?"

"Hookootenowoo." He repeated it slowly. "Haw-gaw-den-o-waw… I-change-things. She's right. You know you do. For other people, for the better." Now it was Hart's turn to take a long, deep breath. "I hope you're doing it for yourself. Bear says he felt every time you called over the last year, that you were having it tough. I was a bit too far down the hole to notice… anyhow… You know you've always said you want to see Yellowstone? It's not that far away; we were all thinking of dragging you up there tomorrow. Stay a night, make sure you see as much as you can. We'll go in convoy, so you can take that cool ride of yours, and go on up north afterwards."

Tony was astonished, and delighted. "You'd all come with me? I mean, I was heading out that way, but to go with friends, who know the place… that's just… heck, brilliant."

They set out early the next morning; the brothers in their faithful Ram, Aleksa travelling with her in-laws and baby Jasper in their roomy Ford. Roomy was the excuse of course, grandparent time spent with a baby who was either sunny or sleepy was the truth of the matter. They were there by mid-morning, and spent the rest of the first day doing the sights that everyone knew. Tony's favourite, although they didn't have an accurate prediction for it and had to scramble when the warning went out, was the Beehive geyser, (across the river from the famous and predictable Old Faithful,) which had a little indicator geyser next to it that went off maybe ten minutes before.

"Beehive Indicator..." Tony mused. "Couldn't they have been a bit more original? Called it the Little Bee or something?" Nobody had an answer.

Unsurprisingly, there hadn't been one room, let alone three, available at the highly popular (and expensive) Old Faithful Inn, but they'd been able to book a couple of the cabins, so they ate food they'd brought with them, and in the evening sat outside, watching Old Faithful showing off as the sun went down. Tony wasn't the only one who grinned to himself as he watched Hart chatting amiably to three back-packing girls from the cabin next door.

Next morning they packed plenty of food; Jasper was in his own backpack, perfectly content on whichever back happened to be available, including Tony's. They walked up to see the Lone Star geyser, and made the trip up to the Artist's Viewpoint, which was breathtaking; those of them who'd seen it before said 'Told ya', and those who hadn't were too in awe to say anything much.

About 5pm, as they walked back to the cabins, where the Mackies intended to stay on another night, Tony looked at his watch and huffed a sigh. It was about a four hour ride to Missoula, where he'd booked into a well-known chain, simply because it was on the far side of the town so he'd be away more easily in the morning. He had two sights he'd planned to see, and then… then, he'd be in _Vancouver._ He almost shivered with excitement; destiny was closing in.

It was time to get on the road, to put an end to these rather wonderful people's unnecessary need to keep saying 'thank you' and let them get on with the rebuilding. He changed into his leathers, re-loaded Destina, and looked up to find the whole family hovering.

"I won't be far away," he said, because he couldn't think of anything else.

"See that you're not," Bear said. "we're going to need you in a couple of months."

"You are?"

Aleksa grinned, blue eyes dancing. "My family are Catholics," she said. "They want a Christening for Jasper. We've chosen a Godfather… but he mustn't be too far away."

Tony nodded, and simply hugged her, lost for words. Everybody hugged him; Hazel hung back until last.

"I'll give you a better name" she said softly. "Or at least an easier one! The moose… he's strong, and way, way smarter than people think. He wanders far from where he was born, like you. _Hinenihii…_ your spirit animal will guide you, until you don't need to wander any more." She kissed his cheek and stepped back; he put his helmet on, gave a quick wave, and steered the bike slowly up the road. There was a lump in his chest, let alone his throat. He'd see them again soon…

Destina sang her purring song to comfort and reassure him, but he was still restless. A moose, huh? A wandering hinenihii… back in DC they'd have called him a peacock. Or a parrot… It was small wonder that he was on his way next morning twenty minutes after the breakfast bar opened. There wasn't much traffic on the road at that hour; as he headed out into the country, he thought the same thing he thought every morning since somewhere around Sioux falls. "You're lucky to be seeing this, Anthony… did you even dream that your country is so beautiful?" For a while, he drove slowly enough to just drink it all in.

After picking up some food to eat at mid-day, he picked up speed a bit, and headed up towards the top of Lake Pend Oreille. He fancied it was shaped like an ear with a long lobe, but knew it was named for the First Nations people who had lived around its shores, who wore ear pendants. Had lived… he began to think of all the places he'd been where the native people _didn't_ live any more, and the reservations he'd passed through… don't pick fights you can't win.

On the outskirts of a small pace called Hope, he found a pull-in beside the lake. It was sandwiched between the road and a railway line, but the view was beautiful. As he slowed down and stopped, he was aware of an elderly couple sitting outside their camper, who eyed him warily as he coasted past them. One of the useful things about an opaque visor was that you could look where you wanted… he'd given up eyeing girls in shorts though. He didn't want to disturb the couple, so he went to the end of the pull-in before dropping the stand, switching off and removing his helmet. The glorious mountain air hit his lungs with a whoosh. He fished in his backpack, dug out the taco he'd bought earlier, and practically inhaled it.

He crossed the road carefully, to take a few photographs, and as he walked back, the couple beckoned to him, smiling by now. "Coffee's on," the lady said, and they fell into an easy conversation about mountains, Italian motorcycles, 'We used to have an Aprilia'… being happy hoboes… and if he was going to Mount Baker to go up to Artist Point. He thanked them for the really good coffee, 'you're welcome', they said, and 'have a safe journey'. And after he'd gone, 'What a nice young man'.

Mount Baker next stop, but if he tried to do that and still reach Vancouver in the same day, he wouldn't have that safe journey, especially as he was taking whatever small roads he could find, to cut across between sections of interstate. His luck ran out as far as that was concerned, when he came to the small town of Hunters, where the mighty Columbia in the way meant he had to take to the highways again, so he stopped off to see the Grand Coulee Dam, and found a modest waterfront motel in Electric City. As he stepped off Destina, he could still feel the ground vibrating slightly under his feet.

The next day he knew he'd reach Vancouver – but with a detour to Maple Falls, to take his faithful steed right up the Mount Baker Highway, as he'd been told, to Artist Point. He visualised Destina as a horse, steaming and snorting, and patted her saddle. "Well worth it, old girl," he told her – and it was. He didn't have words to describe the light, or the colours, or the snow streaked rocks, or the sky reflected in the pool. He took photos to remember it by, but knew they'd never do it justice. He stayed for a while, absorbing the view as he had done so many other times, but this would be the last one in the USA. After a while, he eased the bike back down the hairpins of the highway. At Kendal he turned north again, and in less than half an hour, without any difficulty, he crossed into Canada at Sumas.

 **AN: Next chapter WILL be the last. I think.**


	5. Chapter 5

Tony and the Moose

 **AN: OK… the amount of research I've done for this chapter is immense, and I'm still not happy. Please be kind and accept that although I've tried to be accurate, there are things I've just plain made up. Best I could do. One F word. Sorry. Oh, and guess what? It's not the last chapter. Who knew?**

chapter 5

As he walked back into the bull pen, Tim hit send with a happy smile. Sitting down at his desk, he dropped his phone back into his pocket, took the file that was wedged under his arm and opened it, then took out his lunch from his top draw, intending to read as he ate. A voice from the desk opposite cut into his thoughts.

"So, Tim – you were replying to a message from a young lady? You were smiling as you texted – it must have been someone special."

Tim looked up slowly from the file he hadn't even had a chance to begin, and said evenly, "Yes, Ziva, it was someone special." He offered no further information, and went back to the file. When Tony had teased him about a girl, he recalled, nosy as the Italian was, it had been in fun, if sometimes way too heavy handed for Tim's taste. He'd wanted to know, but if Tim wasn't going to tell him, he'd always let it go, with a 'don't worry, I have ways of finding out'. Tim was pretty sure that he did, and if he didn't think there was going to be a problem for Tim, he'd back off. Ziva's teasing was more spiky and disdainful, more 'so… Tim has managed to find a girl geek' sort of thing.

 _Here we go,'_ he thought, _'maybe this is it.'_

'It' was a promise he'd made to himself several days before, after a day of enduring a particularly bad-tempered Gibbs, and recalling the advice that Tony had travelled all the way down to Norfolk to give him face to face. _'_ _You'll either be his blue-eyed boy, or his replacement whipping boy. I just wanted to say – if that's the case,_ _it won't change,_ _ **don't**_ _wait as long as I did to cut yourself loose.'_

Maybe thinking of cutting himself loose was a bit premature, but he intended, after years of learning from Tony, (by osmosis or more likely irritation half the time, as he'd told his friend,) to be a good Senior Field Agent, and he _didn't_ intend to be the new target for Ziva's jibes or Gibbs' moods. Talking of -

"Who's texting?" The Boss stalked in with a coffee cup in each hand.

"Tim was texting just now, Gibbs; he had a smile on his face, so I think it was a girl, but he is not telling."

Gibbs threw himself down into his chair and glared. "Text your date on your own time, McGee. You've got work to do." He took a long swig from one of the cups.

Tim thought of his promise to himself. He tapped a finger on the open file. "I'm working, Gibbs," he said levelly, to the man who'd just been working hard walking down the block to feed his caffeine addiction. "I've collected the psych profile from Ducky."

Gibbs gave a 'good, that's that' sort of nod, but Tim went on. "Boss, do you _really_ think that taking two minutes to reply to a good friend suddenly makes me a bad worker? After all this time?" He didn't expect anything more than a grunt, and only half expected Gibbs to have picked up on what he really said, but the man's head jerked up.

"Good friend? DiNozzo?"

Tim mentally squared his shoulders – he'd hoped Gibbs would spot it, so no more hesitating to utter a guy's name.

"That's right, Boss." For the first time, he decided to offer some information. "Tony's in Vancouver right now, while his bike gets a service. He's down at sea level reminding himself that being up in the mountains is best. His lungs are healing, but he breathes best at slightly higher altitudes. Says that'll be the same for a while."

Ziva said disbelievingly, "He has ridden all the way to Vancouver on a motor-cycle?"

Tim grinned. "Via Niagara Falls, all the Great Lakes, Michigan, Wyoming -that was where he was that night he rescued Hart Mackie, and you sent us Fornell to help, Boss - Yellowstone, Montana…"

Gibbs' face was an unreadable mask. "Huhmm… he's all right, then?"

"Says he's doing well."

"Um." Gibbs went back to his coffee, and sat with a look on his face that Tim tried to define, (as Tony would have done; ' _reading the Boss_ _i_ _s an essential part of SFA work,_ _Probie-san',_ ) as it was one he hadn't really seen before. 'Morose' was the only word he could think of.

"Tony rescued someone in Wyoming?"

"A friend who helped him and Gibbs once." He went back to his file and his thoughts, which right then were mainly of mountains

Ziva looked from one to the other of them, before huffing and going back to her work.

o0o0o

At the end of a quiet day, with a more or less silent and preoccupied Gibbs, Tim headed down to Abby's to update her on Tony's progress. She had a little figurine on her desk, a black-leather clad rider on a black motorbike; 'God Speed' was written on the plinth. Where she'd found it he had no idea. She saw him looking at it and smiled wistfully. "It's actually Wayne Rainey, winning in 1992," she said, "but I painted it all with black enamel, and added the message myself."

"I'm sure that's keeping him safe, Abby," he told her gravely, and filled her in on the latest adventures. "He says video link tomorrow night, so I'll come over, OK?"

Abby hugged him hard. "I miss him, Tim." All Tim could do was nod.

As he was heading for the parking lot, trying not to think about how _he_ missed the irrepressible DiNozzo, his phone chirped. _Des._ "Tony! I was just talking to Abby about you."

" _Nothing bad, I hope, McSFA!"_

"Mostly not."

" _Hey!"_

"No… just updating. So… it looks sunny where you are – and where is that? Wait… you're in Whistler, aren't you? I can see the Olympic rings behind you. And…. No leathers, so no Destina. You've taken a trip up there."

" _Excellent, McSleuth! Yep, Destina's enjoying a good rest and some expert pampering – the guy I bought her from found me the right place to take her. So I took a tour bus – really great Native guide, said call him Jeff. He told us his full name, after he told us we wouldn't manage it, and he was right."_

"So why Whistler?"

Tony's shrug was obvious, even on the small phone screen. _"_ _Saw the advert._ _Liked it._ _So how are things in DC, as opposed to BC?"_

"Finding my feet. Not letting either of them get to me. The team, I mean, not my feet." Tim told him about the day's texting incident, finishing with, "He was pretty thoughtful for the rest of the day. I wonder if he's realising a few things. Like how he could have killed you."

" _Yeah. There's a flying flotilla of pink things whizzing by overhead, going oink. Hope they don't do what birds do. Anyhow, water under my personal bridge. And the only reason you need to bear it in mind at all is for watching your own back. So... how **are** you?"_

"Honestly, I'm fine, Tony."

" _That's my word."_

"I know. And it covers a multitude of sins, doesn't it? But I'm taking your advice, and if I can't engineer a decent working environment, I'll go. I'm giving it a good shot first."

" _Good… good. Sounds like you've already started. Hey, let me know if you need any advice on making a spirit journey… or maybe that's what you're doing sitting at your desk, doing that 'engineering'!"_

Tim grimaced. "I'd hope to enjoy it more."

Tony sighed. _"You're right. Sorry, being facetious here… "_ He took one of those deep breaths that they both did before trying to say something important, but then he let it out again with a whoosh. _"Hey,"_ he said brightly, _"Let me show you something!"_ He turned round, and pointed his phone at the broad, paved square. Two brightly painted Adirondack chairs sat not far away. _"See, those two – I reckon they're a breeding pair. Over there -" he moved the camera, "that's a family group. I don't thing the young ones leave home, even when they're fully grown, until they find their own mate. I think they pair for life, you know, like wolves,_ _and live in colonies like penguins_ _. I've only seen a lone one once, and it was so sad and dilapidated… I think once they lose their mate, they just fade away, you know? But the environment for them round here is pretty good, so they're really flourishing..."_

"Tony! Tony…" By now Tim had reached his car and was leaning against the hood before he finally managed to interrupt the flow. "You're gabbling. The family life of the Adirondack Chair is fascinating, your research impeccable… you'll have to tell Abby – but what did you _really_ want to tell me?"

Tony walked over to one of the chairs, (sunshine yellow,) and sat down heavily. _"Ah…_ _yes… well…_ _I'm nervous, Tim. Scared, even."_

"Go on..."

" _You remember… Hazel said a spirit journey always comes to an end… I'm pretty sure she meant a positive end. But what if it doesn't?"  
_

"What sort of doesn't?"

" _I dunno. I've got one more day in Vancouver. Day after tomorrow I get on my freshly serviced bike and head off. To something. I know it's to something… soon… I'm trying to find doesn'ts to account for why I'm nervous! OK… what if my lungs **don't** heal? What if I **don't** find what I'm looking for?"_

Tim suddenly felt bewilderingly old and wise. "Try 'What if I _do_ find what I'm looking for and it involves doing something way different? Taking a huge leap of faith? You've spent almost three weeks just bumming around, shedding dead weight, you could keep on doing that, but that's not you. Tony, you get on that bike and ride, and face it, whatever it is, dead-on, make it come right. _That's_ you."

Tony's rather gobsmacked face stared back at him from his phone. _"Wow. Wow, Mc…"_ he shook his head ruefully. _"Thanks, Tim."_

Tim wondered if he should find something smart to say, but decided not to. He got into his car, saying a polite "Goodnight, Ziva," looking over at the woman who was hovering close by, as he did so. He didn't know or care if she'd heard that last comment, but he wasn't going to answer any questions.

" _Ziva, huh?"_

"She wants to know, but she doesn't want me to think she does, so she won't ask. So long, Tony. Take care of yourself."

" _Back atcha."_

o0o0o

There were five main routes out of Vancouver. One took him to the big island, one out to Whistler, and he'd done that. One took him back east, and to the USA, and one up to Kamloops and into Alberta. That left Trans-Canada 1, which, if he kept north on highway 97 when it turned away east, would take him right up into Yukon Territory if he wanted to go that far. Not this time; maybe one day.

He made up his mind, as he explored the beautiful city on foot, visiting Stanley park and resting his feet during a ride on the horse-drawn tram. He took a selfie beside a waterfront sculpture, 'The Drop', which, once the guy in the coffee shop had explained it, looked just what it was – a slanting raindrop at the point of impact, blue like the harbour behind it. The barista chuckled. "We think it's a good laugh – Vancouver's one of the wettest cities in Canada." Tony raised an eyebrow; it was a beautiful, sunny day. "No, seriously."

That was it – his half-formed plan to just hole up in this lovely place and simply stay safe evaporated. Wet didn't equal safe. The next day he headed out. East at first, along the north bank of the Fraser, then north along BC1. He pulled over at one point to watch the Rocky Mountaineer train, in its splendid dark blue and gold livery, making its slow and stately way beside the river bank, carrying enthralled travellers on the trip of a lifetime; and wondered for the hundredth time what this was that he was doing.

He put on some speed, and after a while found he'd been riding for almost five hours, gently uphill most of the way, with no real sense of time elapsing. He was hungry, and saw a sign for a place called Cubbin, on a long loop road off the highway, on the edge of… Moose Valley Provincial Park. O…Kay… He could have stayed on the highway, but this had to be followed up.

He half expected loggers' dirt roads, and certainly hammered earth tracks branched off from time to time, but the surface he rode on was paved. There were deep blue lakes of varying sizes, a home or two set back from the road, a sawmill and a furniture company. (Mo's Rustic Pine; a smiling moose with a saw in its hand. Er… hoof.) No sign of the town yet… another hoarding coming up… Cubbin Airfield. Home of Strongman's Flying School. He slowed right down and peered across; the buildings were close to the road, with the runway behind them. There was plenty of activity going on, but he bet they didn't have a cafe. He was going to ride straight past, in spite of the intriguing sight of a shiny Bell JetRanger in the colours of the Canadian National Parks Service, half covered in a tarpaulin, but at that moment a moose cow and calf decided to wander out of the trees to the north.

Tony waited, thinking that when the angels decided to create the biggest deer ever, they used all the left-over bits. Angular, bony and ungainly, with a ridiculous nose… moose were everything that an animal _shouldn't_ look like… they were amazing. Beautiful. The calf turned and looked at him, with big, fearless, curious eyes, until mom nudged its flank, and they disappeared into the woodland to the south.. Tony smiled inside his helmet, and was about to move off again, when a voice close by said, "They'll be back later on, those two. She prefers the north side of the road."

Tony flipped his visor up as he looked round; it was not only more polite, but you could actually have a conversation. A middle aged man carrying a crate of what looked like oily machine parts, had come up as far as the gate, and was grinning cheerfully at him. Tony carefully legged Destina back a few yards so he didn't have to twist his head round. "She knows this road, then. More than I do. My first ever encounter with a moose!"

"Not from round here, then. American, by your accent."

Tony could see the man wasn't prying, so he said easily, "Tony DiNozzo; from DC."

"Pete Strongman. Proprietor..." he jerked his thumb at the hoarding. "You'll be fine just doing what you were doing… driving slowly, keeping your eyes peeled." He paused. "I can see you wouldn't want to dent your bike… that's a sweet ride."

"Or the moose," Tony agreed. "Are you into classics?"

"Anything mechanical," Pete said. "But I appreciate good design." He didn't miss it as Tony's eyes went momentarily to the helicopter. "Yes, you're right," he said ruefully. "The Bell, that's a classic. First built in the 60s… That one's only a year old, and we've got to give it back to Prince George in two months if we can't find someone to fly it."

"No-one wants to be a pilot for the CNPS? I would have thought that's a cool job for a young man to brag to his girl! Or a kick-ass job for a girl," he added, not wanting to be sexist.

"Ack," the older man said, "the young people, they learn – then as soon as they've got the required hours, they're off to the city, for bigger bucks."

Tony looked round. "Me, I'd rather be out here," he said truthfully. "I've had enough of the city." Out of nothing more than curiosity, he asked, "How long does it take them to learn to fly one of those?"

"Minimum 40 hours, and they think they know it all, but they can't call themselves pilots even then! You never stop learning… Still…" he went on reflectively, "that one's a doddle to fly." His proprietary eyes twinkled for a moment. "Hey… if you're stopping around, come back out here and I'll take you up in one… maybe you might like to learn yourself!"

Tony didn't want to give a 'just passing through' spiel, so he said "Well, you never know. Right now, I need food!"

"Ah," Pete said… "you want the Centre… right in the middle of town. Museum of the area, information centre, art gallery, and a really good little cafe. Just keep on down the main street, past the CNPS office – police station on the left, blue-roofed building on the right. Tell Ben I told ya."

"Thanks," Tony said, as he put Destina into gear. 

"My pleasure – and don't forget the offer!"

o0o0o

More houses, a school, some businesses, a biggish general store, but not big enough to be called a supermarket. A gas station, something that looked like a hotel, set back off the road, boarded up. More houses, side streets. A timber merchant, a sign for a doctor's surgery, and another for a hospital. Everything (except that sad hotel) looking tidy and cheerful. _Nice town, welcoming feel to it,_ he thought. _No…_ _no_ _t going_ _to wonder_ _any further than that._

Th road widened out, and he spotted the place that Pete had described; both it and the police station opposite had ample parking, so he came gently to a stop, alongside a fairly new sports car. He attached his helmet to its thief-proof catch, climbed off, stretched, and went into the Cubbin Centre. No automatic door; he wasn't sure why that made him happy; perhaps it was that the 21st century wasn't trying to intrude too hard yet? _Don't be patronising, Anthony… but hey, aren't you looking for a slower pace of life?_

He looked around, orientating himself. To the left was a small, bright cafe, where a young couple were sitting, busy texting on their phones. The sports car people, he guessed. A gift shop was opposite the door, with a low divider separating it from the cafe; probably, Tony thought cynically, so that the barista could watch out for shoplifters. To the right, a tall partition isolated the art gallery, and just as Tony's grumbling stomach tried to steer him in the opposite direction, something caught his eye. He turned towards it, and ignored his tum's howl of indignation.

He stood for quite a while, looking at a group of line drawings; mixed media, shades of sepia. Two wolf cubs, an eagle flapping its wings to keep its balance on a snowy branch, a bear, an otter with beady, bright intelligent eyes, and a moose, of course. Three, actually. One picture was of a cow and calf, the other of a large bull-moose, looking directly at the artist. It stared at him with the same reproachful expression he got from Ducky, Jimmy and Tim when he said something Tonyish.

He really liked the pictures, especially that moose; the artist's style was empathic, without kitsch or any attempt at mass-appeal. ' _Bull Moose, Green Lake Trail.' Waawaatesi, 2009._ He practised trying to say the artist's name, whilst thinking the price tag of $175 Canadian was very reasonable. He was tempted, even though the frame and glass would make it awkward to transport. Raised voices in the cafe began to intrude into his thoughts.

"… all hand made, right from tanning the leather. The beads are glass or ceramic, or silver, not plastic. They're very reasonably priced for the quality." That was clearly the barista: his tone suggested this discussion had been going on for a while, and he was trying to keep his patience. Tony looked round the partition; the man was still behind his counter. The young couple had progressed to the gift shop, where they were absorbed in fingering everything. They'd knocked a few things off their racks and were making no attempt to pick them up.

"Way too expensive for a souvenir," the young man said disparagingly to his girl. "I told you we should have stayed on the highway."

"Well, let's go back to it, then, and we can stop somewhere else for souvenirs – Oooh, these are pretty!"

The girlfriend had picked up a dream catcher and was cooing over it. Her boyfriend shrugged. "Bring it then," he said impatiently, and started to walk away.

"Not without paying for it, you don't," the barista said sharply. The young man rolled his eyes, and turned to head for the door – only to find his way blocked by a tall, solid man in motorcycle leathers.

"What the fuck? Get out of my way!"

"Language… I will, when you've paid for it."

"None of your damn business. Get the hell out of my way!"

"Either pay for it, or put it back," the man in black said solemnly.

The girlfriend, standing to one side, could see a purposeful looking cop striding across the road towards them, and knew when to give up. She put the dream catcher back where she'd got it from.

The boy was clearly trying to decide whether or not to barge Tony, which didn't look like a good idea, when the door behind him opened and a voice laden with authority asked, "Is there a problem here?"

The boy, slippery as a snake, dived past both Tony and the policeman, and ran for his car. The girl squealed "Darren!" in outrage, and scampered after him.

Tony sighed and shook his head, watching them go with a jaundiced expression. He was about to make a rueful remark about the manners of young people these days, when the cop snapped, "So, d'you want to tell me who you are., and what you think you're doing?"

 **AN: I rode the Rocky Mountaineer with Proseac, last year…. Do it if you possibly can, it's magic.**


	6. Chapter 6

Tony and the Moose

Chapter 6

 **AN: This was going to be the last chapter, honestly, but I decided to split it.**

Tony stiffened, and then relaxed with a resigned sigh. No… he _hadn't_ been thinking, even in the back of his mind, that it might be good to stay a while, in a nice small town that he liked the look of; maybe learn to fly, become a helipilot for the CNPS, maybe even put some pics of his own in the art gallery… Nooo, he hadn't thought any of that. Move on.

His bitter musings must have gone on for too long. "Sir -" barely polite, "I asked you a question."

Tony held his hands out from his sides a little, and turned slowly to face the voice. _Ah… not as tall as_ _me_ _. Damn. Shorter guy, maybe feeling at a disadvantage, carrying, and about to find out he'_ _s_ _made a silly mistake, which won't help his attitude._

"Anthony DiNozzo. From DC. Touring."

"Touring, eh? That includes terrorising a couple of kids? Not letting them leave?"

The barista had watched the kids tearing away in their sporty job, then turned to observe what was happening, and had been hovering anxiously, wondering how to intervene. He said quickly, "No, chief, that's not it. The kids had been messing up the shop, then they tried to leave without paying. This man just made them put the stuff back. It was the kids I called you about."

The cop looked embarrassed for a moment, but got back on his high horse PDQ. He instantly reminded Tony of Gibbs, and that just about knocked his germ of an idea on the head. "Are you carrying a side-arm, Mr DiNozzo?"

Huh… well, he supposed it was a good thing the air of fed still lingered around him. It had served him well in Michigan… and Wyoming. Had to end some time. _Heck_ , he thought, _at least he got my name right_.

"No, Chief Franken." ( _see, I got your name right too,_ _I can read!_ _)_ "I'm licensed to in the USA, but since this is Canada, I'm not."

"Cop?"

"Fed. Field Agent."

The chief began to relax a little, until Tony added, "Retired."

"Retired? You're a bit young for that." Disbelief, exactly what Tony had expected.

"Medical grounds." He knew the officer could check up, and offered no more.

The moment when the cop realised there was no way out of eating humble pie was written all over his face. Tony felt his suppressed anger subside a little. Gibbs wouldn't have admitted a mistake, even to himself. The chief nodded, and said in a more conciliatory tone, "Helluva thing having to retire from a job like that early…. Look, I'm sorry. Made assumptions, I should have known better." He stuck out a hopeful hand, which Tony shook. He couldn't stay that angry, this man could manage the S word, he wasn't Gibbs. The sour taste was still there, but he tried not to show it.

"That's OK, Chief. I'd better be getting on my way." _Fight or flight? Obvious. Get the hell out of Dodge._ As he stepped out of the door, a FWD in CNPS colours, with yellow light flashing on top, went by fast, and still accelerating. He wasn't going to ask why he didn't go after the guy for driving like that, but the chief read his mind.

He said apologetically, "That's Tay. Only drives like that if there's an emergency."

Tony managed a smile, although he didn't want anything now but to get on his bike and go. Although he told himself he was being unreasonable, he felt as if someone had stomped on his dreams. Which was idiotic, since he hadn't known he even _had_ those dreams until about ten minutes ago. He hadn't even had time to actually _do_ the dreaming. _Aaaand… apart from the assumption – blame the leathers if you don't want to blame a small-town cop without enough excitement in his life – stoppit, he was just doing his job._

As he unclipped his helmet from its catch, pausing in his internal rant, he wasn't happy to see that the chief had followed him to his bike. Look, just let it _go_. Let _me_ go.

"D'you mind me asking, what brought you to Cubbin?"

"I need to be in the mountains, for my lungs' sake. Saw the 'Moose Valley' sign, wanted to take a look." _And get something to eat._ He glanced longingly at the cafe, but that, and the moose picture, wasn't going to happen now.

The policeman saw it. "Look, we got off to a bad start -" _no, you did -_ "but Cubbin's a nice town. Good people." _Implication: including me. "_ Why don't you stop and have a coffee? Catch a bite?" So – he'd seen him arrive, knew he hadn't had time to eat. The man was trying to make amends, but it wasn't the injustice of his 'welcome' that was really bothering Tony. This thing… this getting his hopes up and then having them flattened again was the story of his life, and he'd hoped he'd left it firmly behind in DC.

He shook his head sadly. "I think I should be going." He pulled his helmet on, rolled Destina backwards out of the parking slot, and moved off up the road. His stomach never said a word, it felt too heavy and sick to bother. He rode slowly, trying not to feel like he was cutting off his nose to spite his face, trying not to feel so hurt. He glanced in his rear mirror, and saw the chief and the barista watching him, then the cop turned away and begin to move back across the road to his HQ. He'd be looking him up right away, Tony knew. He'd find the terse official version, and if he tried to dig any deeper, well, good luck to him with that.

He'd only been travelling for about five minutes, when he saw a flash of yellow light among the trees ahead. Remembering that ranger truck, he slowed right down. He came to a halt at the end of a dirt road; only twenty yards down it the FWD stood, lights still flashing, engine running. The ranger, who didn't look like a terribly big guy, knelt beside it, struggling with something squirming on the ground. DiNozzo's rule – what? He couldn't remember, but it was the one about not standing by when someone needed help – urged him forwards; he dropped the stand, tore his helmet off, and ran over.

"D'you need a hand?"

The ranger looked up from the wriggling black bear cub that was yelling for its mom at the top of its lungs, and Tony was stunned to find himself regarded by a female face with classic bone structure, and intelligent dark brown eyes, that reminded him a lot of Hazel Mackie.

"Thank you," the ranger said. "I need to work quickly – will you hold her down?"

"Sure." He straddled the cub and held her shoulders, as the ranger pulled one foreleg out. A piece of baling twine was tangled round the paw, and was digging further in as the cub grew. The woman produced a thin knife, and forced it under the twine, which hurt the cub and made her yell even louder, but in a moment the string snapped, and the small animal's thrashings eased a bit.

The ranger grunted in relief, as she peeled the dirty, red twine away, and blood began to ooze sluggishly. "That's a blessing," she said. "Bleeding means the paw's still alive. I've been tracking this pair for two weeks, ever since this was first reported. Much longer, and she'd have chewed the paw off, or died of gangrene… I've had all the light aircraft pilots in the entire area on alert all this time, and fortunately, one just called me. There's a good chance for her now."

"I'm beginning to see why you need a pilot for that chopper."

The ranger gave him a surprised, delighted smile. "You've been talking to Pete Strongman."

"I have." A thought occurred to him. "You said pair..."

The woman pointed briefly. " _O_ _h_ , yes. Over there. Got to be done before she wakes up." Tony looked where she pointed, and saw an adult black bear lying peacefully in the undergrowth, a red flash of dart sticking out of her neck. "We've got maybe five minutes - whoops – can you hold her other paw!"

Tony tried, as the ranger poured water over the wound; he felt a claw catch the heel of his thumb, but there wasn't time to think about that. After she'd cleaned the area, the ranger coated the whole wrist – he supposed that was what you'd call it – thoroughly with a thick goo that made him think of the gasket grease that mechanics used. "Done," she said breathlessly. "That'll protect it - she won't lick it off in a hurry. Give me one more minute?" Tony nodded, and as she jumped up and ran, Tony realised that his original estimate of her size had been on the generous side. She was under average height, maybe five foot three, and you could fit the whole of her into a pint pot.

 _I'm sitting on a_ _ **bear cub**_ _, in the forest, with a First Nations woman who's – don't go there… intelligent and good looking and competent and_ _interesting and_ _ **hey!**_ _\- in a town that just thought you were some sort of criminal -_ _ **needs a pilot**_ _and_ _isn't wearing a ring_ _– don't go there! Just stay alert, that's a momma bear over there…_

The ranger ran back with the dart she'd removed from momma, and said "That's fine… you can let her go now. Thanks for your help!" Tony let his weight off the cub, who ran with a limping gait back to the adult, and began nuzzling her hopefully.

The ranger picked up her dart gun and put it back in its case. She gathered up the water bottle and the pot of gunk and stowed everything in the back of the truck. "I need to sit here for a few minutes, just to make sure the mother wakes up ok," she said. "She's not likely to attack, but I'll sit in the cab anyway. Not that I'm not grateful, but you should probably get out of – oh, wait a minute – looks like cubby got you." She reached for his left hand, where his gauntlet was oozing blood from a small hole. When he took it off, he found a smallish puncture wound, still bleeding a little. "We should fix that," she said calmly.

"I'll be fine -"

"Maybe, but do you know how mucky bear claws are? I mean, are you up to date with your tetanus jabs? Look, get in the truck, we can't stop out here yacking!"

"OK, chief," Tony said, and gave in with a rueful smile.

She never told him until a long time later how that smile made her catch her breath. "My name's Tay," she said, as she shoved him towards the truck. "Get in, momma's moving back there!" She opened the passenger door, and threw some stuff off the seat into the back.

"Tony," he told her as they shut themselves in. "And yes, I am up to date. No-one's sticking an elephant needle in me! Hello, Tay."

Tay grinned broadly. "Hi, Tony."

The interior of the truck was clean, but cluttered. Nevertheless, Tay seemed to know where to find what she was looking for. She reached behind her seat, and pulled out something that looked like a doctor's bag. Tony looked at the contents curiously, and put two and two together. "You're a veterinarian," he said.

"That's right." Her eyes danced with mischievous humour. "I have a practice in the town. I rent a house with a surgery attached, you'll have passed it. One storey, wooden, dark green. Two dark red Adirondack chairs outside."

 _Crazy… I noticed them… another **not** coincidence… all it'll take is to see a moose sitting in one of those chairs for me to lose it completely. Not going to see it though, not going back to the town. But… don't you **want** to be around someone whose eyes shine like that… who has **chairs** – will you just stop it!_

If Tay noticed the inner preoccupation she didn't let on. She laughed. "Tay Two-hats, they call me in the town. But hey, the two hats fit pretty well together. The area's pretty well behaved, doesn't need a full time ranger, and I have a partner to share the vet practice. Life's good."

 _You are **gorgeous,** stranger who stopped to help… what I want to do with you is absolutely unrepeatable… Stop it, Waawaatesi, you know it's just the last hoorah of your ageing body clock! But… his eyes… there's a lot of damage there… no, no – he's not one of your wounded animals in need of rescue. Get a grip._

She produced a cotton-wool pad, and put something on it that smelled thoroughly astringent. "It'll sting a bit."

"That's OK, I'm tough… sheesh!"

"Sorry. But it's effective – you can imagine what bear claws root around in."

"Oh yes – you don't need to tell me. We had a case a few years ago where we found a marine's dog-tags in a pile of bear scut. We had to fish them out, and take a sample of the poo."

He should have expected Tay's next remark, as she finished cleaning the puncture. "Did the bear kill him?" She put an adhesive dressing on the wound.

"No. It was murder; the body was left so we'd blame the bear."

She sighed. "It wouldn't make any difference for the poor damn' bear… the fact that it had tasted human flesh would be enough. It'd be hunted down and killed."

"Yeah… the ranger at the time told us that. I get it, but it still seemed unjust to me." His stomach chose that moment to growl fiercely, and he looked down at it accusingly, but the ranger wasn't fazed.

"Ow, me too," she said fervently. She squirmed around in her seat again, and dug out a lunch box from the back seat of the truck. "Here. Share. Be my guest, it's the least I can do."

"I don't want to take your food, especially if you're hungry. And if your job's as unpredictable as mine was, you never know when you'll get to eat again."

Tay chuckled. "Oh, that's OK." She reached across him to open the glove-box, and a shower of flapjacks, power bars and clownies fell out all over him. Seemed like that tiny frame took a lot of fuel. For a moment, she looked a bit nonplussed. "That wasn't meant to happen." Tony had the good manners not to make the observation that the under-dash compartment was as rammed as the rest of the vehicle. They both picked the snacks up and stowed them away again. "But see, I've got plenty. Have a sandwich. Local cheese and some of my mom's pickle. Every time I go up there, she sends me home with enough provender for a month."

"That's a good sort of mom to have." They ate in silence, not wanting to disturb the bear as she found her feet, got her bearings, and checked her cub over. She sniffed at the gunk dressing on her paw, but clearly found it unremarkable.

"That's good," Tay said. "I got some earth from an empty den in the Spring, to put in the dressing. This is the first time I've been able to test it."

"You make it yourself?"

"There's nothing on the market that'll do the trick. Industrial strength petroleum jelly, antiseptic, earth, and a bit of bear pee. Lovely." She chuckled again. _That warm, earthy laugh…_ "I suppose it's a bit like how my forbears used to anoint themselves with the excrement of the animals they were going out to hunt."

Tony shook his head in wonderment. "I'm enthralled. You have to tell me more. I mean, who were your forbears? You're Native Canadian, right?"

"I'm a Native Cree." They watched as the bears waddled off into the forest. "I grew up near Prince George. Waawaatesi – Tay for short – Perrault."

"You drew the moose! In the Centre! I loved it -"

"So, you visited the art gallery. Oh – it was you talking to Jonas Franken as I went by. You really should have stopped there for something to eat, you know. Ben would have fed you way better than a packed lunch! What? What have I said?"

Tony grimaced, but he didn't think there was any resisting this small human hurricane. "I intended to..." He explained, glossing over the hurt, and confessing to having left town in a huff.

Tay heard him out, looking thoughtful, and then said calmly, "I think we need to talk, Tony."

"We do?"

"We do."

"Well… I did say I wanted to know more…."

"Yep, you did." She looked him straight in the eyes. "So do I." She picked up his gauntlet from the floor, and examined it. The inside of the palm was still wet with blood. "We can fix this in town. Look, get on that beautiful bike of yours, and I'll meet you back at Ben's for a coffee." She gestured at a thermos flask in the driver's door pocket. "That stuff's only – barely – fit for a ranger on duty."

"Tay, I can't go back into town."

"Of course you can. Get gone!"

Which was how Tony found himself pulling up in the same parking slot he'd just left, with the CNPS Chevy close behind him.

Ben turned around from loading his coffee machine, and his face lit up. "Hey – I'm glad you came back – I never got a chance to thank you!"

Tony smiled more easily than he felt. "No problem. Keeping me out of jail was all the thanks I needed." He held the door for Tay, thinking how he he seemed to be riding a helluva storm, at least inside himself. Buying Destina and leaving DC; the crest of a wave, for all the regrets he felt. His birthday; rescuing people, doing something helpful; such wise advice from Hazel and Tim. Seeing the sign for Moose Valley, and talking to the flying instructor. In between, the troughs; the fear of the unknown and the desperate wish to hole up in Vancouver; the cop, and the dashing of half-acknowledged dreams… why was he making such a fuss?

Well, the spirit journey had him back on the crest again, carried along by a small Cree tsunami… _This is crazy. Go with the flow. No, can't lose control. I have to trust someone sometime. Damn it, Anthony, are you still afraid of the end of the journey? Yes… if there's a trough coming, it could be too deep to climb out of…_

They got coffee, and the lemon drizzle cake that Tay recommended, and as Tony carried it over to a seat by the window, she stayed to have a word with Ben. As Tony, too warm now, indoors, shrugged out of his leather jacket, Tay hesitated for a moment, then picked up the bloody gauntlet and took it back over to Ben, who grinned, and took it into his kitchen.

 _Lord of all the winds, I was not expecting that! That smell of warm man and cologne… oh wow. Deep breath. Calm down. Waawaatesi, this is the man. All the years of not quite… not quite loving, not quite hoping, not quite trusting… this is him. What if he doesn't see it the same way?_

Tony found himself sitting where he could see past the now tidy shop, through to the gallery, from whence the moose still regarded him mournfully. Tay turned to see what he was looking at, and smiled. "OK, Tony – you first."

o0o0o

By the time they'd sat there an hour, with other people coming and going, and Ben had topped up their coffee twice, they knew a lot about each other. Tony had calmed enough to explain about the spirit journey, and his failing lungs, and getting out of DC. He hadn't touched on how his lungs had got to that point though, or the hurt it had cost him. He wished she'd stop looking at him as if she knew, but knew that if she _did_ stop, he'd want her to start again.

He'd learned that Tay had been born very prematurely, and at first they'd only called her little soul, as she hadn't been expected to live. But when they saw the fight she put up, how her flame flickered but grew brighter, they called her Waawaatesi: Firefly. "I guess I must have decided I wasn't born just to die again. I had a lucky, happy childhood, my parents made sacrifices to make sure I got a good education, they're wonderful people."

"When did you discover you have an empathic side? Come on, you know you have."

"Um… transparent or what? Well, I discovered I was good with animals when I was quite young. I cared about people too, but it was animals I wanted to work with. I went to the University of Northern British Columbia on a scholarship, but when I told my tutor I wanted to see a bit more of the world, he got me another scholarship to do the last two years of my studies in England. Like I said, I've been lucky! When I came home, I worked in various cities, learning the ropes of actually being a vet, but never really felt settled anywhere. Never met a man who rocked me down to my metatarsals..."

She'd seen the ranger post, and found her niche, and her contentment, not so far from where she'd grown up. "The wilderness, and all that's in it, is the heart and soul of this country, and I'm meant to protect it." She looked at him in that way he was getting used to, and he felt up on that crest again, facing a terrifying slide down a wall of black water. "Just as you were meant to protect good people from bad ones, and then you were meant to stop."

"I guess I've accepted that much."

"Some way. But any time you're ever needed to help or protect, you'll do it."

"Sure – like you'll risk the wrath of a momma bear, to help her cub."

Tay smiled. "Well… I know why _I_ do what I do. _You_ know what you've carefully avoided talking about – the whys and whats of your life. What brought you to your decisions and actions. No – you don't want to say, that's fine; but I can't unsee the pain I see in you, and I can see that you're a good man, who doesn't deserve the shit he's clearly been dealt."

Tony tried not to show how her words tugged at him. He shrugged ruefully. "Pobody's Nerfect, as they say." He paused momentarily to enjoy her laugh. "I mean, nobody's entitled to a shit-free life!"

"Fair comment. You'll take it _for_ others, but you don't have to take it _from_ anyone else. Not round here. No, don't say the chief – you can bet Jonas is kicking himself round his office right now. Take it from me, he's one of the good guys. This town's full of them."

They paused, as Ben, with perfect timing, brought the damaged gauntlet back, clean, dry, and with a tiny circle of leather glued over the puncture.

"My pleasure," he said, as Tony tried to thank him.

Tay beamed. "See?"

Tony _did_ see, and a cold wave of fear swept over him. What if he was wrong?

 _I've got to move on._


	7. Chapter 7

Tony and the Moose

chapter 7

 **AN: The moose, at last. And I know, and Tony knows, that the plural of moose is moose. And a reminder, hinenihii is the Arapaho word for moose that Hazel gave to Tony.**

 **I have an inuksuk, or rather an inuunguaq, that I bought in BC; I WILL get back to Canada one day.**

 **Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me, special thanks to the unsigned in guest reviewers.**

Vance had called Tim up to his office a few days ago. Gibbs had watched him go, but said nothing. The Director had come straight to the point.

" _Agent McGee – I've been meaning to ask you, are you happy where you are?"_

 _Tim looked for the right words. "I...don't know if happy is the right word. I think I'm **best** where I am, for now at least."_

" _Go on."_

" _I think," Tim said slowly, "that I haven't been a Senior Field Agent anything like long enough to hope for my own team yet, which would make any move sideways. So I think I shouldn't move at all. Not just yet."_

 _Vance nodded. "You're fine staying with Gibbs?"_

" _I'm beginning to understand how Tony – er, Agent DiNozzo felt. The responsibility for looking after the team – especially Gibbs. The necessity for loyalty, because Gibbs couldn't function without it."_

" _Hmm… even if it wasn't appreciated. Is Gibbs the same with you?"_

" _No, Director. When Tony was Senior Field Agent, I used to wonder why he put up with it, and if Gibbs were still acting in the same way, I'd have been up here by now. It was one of the last things Tony said to me – not to wait as long as he did. But Gibbs is different. Quieter… he still yells at suspects and LEOs pretty indiscriminately, but he's quiet with us. I think… no, I'm certain he feels guilty now about Tony. He understands that… well, he had a Shelby Mustang, and treated it like an old Pinto."_

 _Vance allowed himself a smile at the analogy. "Loyalty… can Gibbs still not function without it?"_

" _I think he still needs me, Sir. Enough to make me stick around. To be truthful, I've lost my teacher, and I'm learning more by just doing things… Gibbs doesn't teach, although he expects us to learn – so when I have a question, I call Tony."_

 _Vance actually laughed. "I've been known to do that myself! O...K… we'll leave things as they are – I commend your attitude. Feel free to come to me if you need to."_

 _"I will Sir, thank you."_

So here they were, working a case, with young Paul Fawcett settling in as their probie, having stayed the course after all. Tim had quietly commended his guts, and found now that he had to stand between him and Ziva's waspishness far more than Gibbs' temper.

Ziva was talking to witnesses, while Fawcett bagged and tagged – a duty he always performed faultlessly – whilst Gibbs took photos. Tim sketched dutifully; it wasn't his forte, he knew, but since the competent artist was no longer on the team, he'd do it to the best of his ability. He felt restless, and heaven only knew why, felt that Tony was at the root of it. He checked his phone, openly; Gibbs seemed to trust these days that the appearance of a cell phone didn't automatically mean time-wasting, but there were no messages.

Whatever… the feeling went on all day. He did receive a text from Abby, saying more or less the same thing. She worried about Tony, far away, and worried about Gibbs right under her nose. Tim let her know he'd fix up a video conference as soon as possible.

In Wyoming, Moss Mackie decided, for no particular reason that he knew of, to take a lunch break, something he never did, and drive over to the clinic where Hazel worked. He wasn't surprised when his wife greeted him with relief and a huge hug; they had this thing between them after more than thirty years.

"I'm _so_ glad to see you, love, I feel really out of sorts."

"What's bothering you, sweetie?"

"Oh, Moss, if I knew… Tony keeps coming into my head. I hope he's not in some sort of trouble..."

"Maybe someone else needs rescuing. Let's go have a coffee, and text the boys to see if they know anything." His wife hugged him again. "You're a star."

o0o0o

Meanwhile, the man himself was trundling Destina slowly down the road. He'd passed Tay's house, on its bank slightly above street level, and looked away; he hadn't wanted to see those two crimson chairs. He'd passed the side track where he'd stopped to help a ranger, and found an amazing woman, and kept going. And going. There was a hard lump against his heart, and for a while he thought that it was just the organ reminding him that he was an idiot and a complete coward, until he recalled that he'd put the _inuunguaq_ in his breast pocket, and the weight of it was reminding him the exact same thing that his heart was.

 _Tay hadn't been surprised, seeing the panic crossing his face at the same instant that he felt it._

" _I'll just say this," she'd told him softly, "you should stay. You should. I know you won't, but you should."_

 _He'd already told her about the 'thing', the getting his hopes up and having them crash down, so he just said, thickly, trying not to look into those brown eyes and think what he was leaving, "I'll get it wrong. It always goes wrong."_

" _I wish I could get my hands on whoever convinced you of that, you dumbo," she said rudely. "I'd beat it out of them, since I can't beat it out of you." Tony stood there, feeling helpless, and sick, but still sure that leaving was the best thing to do.._

 _He watched curiously as Tay went over to the gift shop, with a glance at Ben, and came back with a small, stone figurine. She put it in Tony's hand, and he stared at it until she closed his fingers round it. It was a strange little representation of a human figure, constructed of square and rectangular blocks of dark grey-brown rock. "Most people call this an inukshuk," she said, but that can be any stone construction, a standing stone, a pile, a cairn… this one that looks like a human is an **inuunguaq**. They're kind of becoming a symbol of Canada." There she was, giving him the tour-guide treatment, when her heart was threatening to break. "The Inuit people put them on trails; they guide the weary traveller, alone in the wild, back to hearth, home, and love. You take it, and remember us. Me." _

_He wanted to bend his head down and kiss her cheek, but he didn't. She wanted to follow him out to his motor bike, but she didn't. She tried not to hear the sound of it fading in the distance._

 _Ben watched as her shoulders slumped, came over, and draped an arm round her shoulder. "You OK, gal? You know… I kind of thought there was something happening there, with you guys."_

" _There is… but he's just not ready to admit it to himself."It's not me he doesn't trust, it's him." She gave him an over-bright smile. "I'd better pay you for the inuunguaq."_

" _You don't have to -"_

" _I do, Ben, or it isn't a gift from me."_

Every bump in the road made that little stone figure bump his chest a little harder, and he clenched his teeth. His hand gripped the throttle more tightly than he intended, and it wasn't until he'd ridden another ten miles that he realised he was going faster than was safe. He pulled to the side of the road, and sat for maybe ten minutes without moving, and feeling dreadful. He was running for his life, instead of seizing a chance. Fool. Cubbin was maybe thirty miles behind him now. (They used kilometres here, and he hadn't been looking for distance markers anyway. They were pretty infrequent on these minor roads, anyway.) In the end he stirred himself to fish for his phone. If the reception was good enough, he ought to look for somewhere to stay.

Before he could switch it on, he heard a snort. He looked up; a very large bull-moose was standing in the road ahead of him. Where'd that come from? It wasn't there a moment ago… It regarded him with that look – did all mooses wear that disapproving expression?

He raised his visor. "Hey… don't look at me like that! And get out of the road!"

The moose _spoke –_ or, it seemed as if it did. It spoke with Tony's voice. " _Put your phone away. You're an idiot_."

"What?"

The big fella moved its head slowly, and blinked. This time it was Tim's voice. " _Try_ ' _What if I_ do _find what I'm looking for and it involves doing something way different? Taking a huge leap of faith?'_ _You've spent almost three weeks just bumming around, shedding dead weight, you could keep on doing that, but that's not you. Tony, you get on that bike and ride, and face it, whatever it is, dead-on, make it come right._ _ **That's**_ _you."_

Tony tried to speak, but nothing came out of his mouth. He tried to inch the bike to the other side of the road, but the moose just took a couple of paces in the same direction. It gave him a sour glance that said, 'is that the best you can do?' Then Hazel Mackie said, _"_ _Tony, the thing you need to know about a spirit journey is that it does come to an end. The spirit isn't meant to wander forever."_

Tony felt a cold shiver of shocked comprehension run down his back. He whispered one word, very softly. "Hinenihii..."

The moose lifted its head, and took a couple of steps towards him, but he didn't feel threatened. His heart was beating fast – had he ever imagined that he'd get to _meet_ his spirit animal? The big bull-moose came quite close, and they looked each other in the eye. A voice that could have come from the trees or the earth said softly, "The only way a spirit journey can come to a bad outcome, is if the traveller stubbornly resists a good one."

Tony bowed his head for a few moments, and nodded slowly."You're right…" He lifted his head again, and the moose was gone. He may have caught a glimpse of a white rump among the trees, but he really wasn't sure. "Thank you," he murmured to his spirit guide, lowered his visor, and turned Destina round.

He wanted to drive fast, but resisted. Dusk was falling, and there was even more chance of a collision with an unwary animal, so he put his light on low beam, and went cautiously. His heart was racing again by the time he reached the outskirts of the town.

She was sitting in one of the crimson chairs, watching the road… She'd left a space alongside the truck, instead of parking it in the middle of the hard-standing, and she stood up as he eased Destina into the gap. She was no longer in uniform, but wore a flowing, soft mid-calf dress in deep purple, that fused modern style and traditional First Nation; there were comfortable, tall mukluks on her feet. As he pulled his helmet off, she came down the short flight of steps to the parking space. She looked at him solemnly, and didn't speak, but simply held her hand out to him.

A moment later, they were hugging each other close, as if they never wanted to be parted again. Tony lowered his cheek against the top of Tay's head, and muttered "I'm sorry," but she just chuckled, and made a shushing sound, holding him tighter.

After a while, she said "Ow!", pulled away and started probing the area round his heart with her fingertips. If she was aware of his tiny shiver, she didn't say. Time enough for that later… "The inuunguaq… it brought you back safely."

"It had help. Hinenihii… I'll tell you all about it some time. Tay… do you believe this is happening? Can we fall in love this quickly?"

"Take it from me, once and for all, you are worth loving."

"Then… Waawaatesi, I love you." She lifted her face towards his, and the kiss they shared was all that either of them needed to know about the rest of their lives.

o0o0o

 **18 months later…**

"I don't know what to tell you, Director," Tim said. Once again, up in Leon Vance's office, the subject was Gibbs. "Yes, I want my own team. Of course I do. Do I think Gibbs and the team would be fine without me?"

"McGee, that wouldn't be your problem."

"I know, Sir, but in my head it always would be. Did I do the right thing by him, when I was doing the right thing by _me_? I think we all work well enough together, we've got a team; Agent Fawcett is doing well… but Gibbs… he's functioning, but not… Sir, I can't explain it. He's not _living…_ He doesn't care about anything but getting the job done, and over the last few months I've started to see signs of the temper, you know? When things don't go right… he's not actually snapped yet, but I think he will, in the end. He's stressed, but he tries to deal with it in a totally… robotic? Does that make sense? A robotic way."

"I understand what you're saying, McGee… but what do you suggest I do? I want you to take up your own team; there are several positions that need filling, and staying where you are makes you, to be blunt, a wasted resource. Are you saying I should retire Gibbs? Reassign David and Fawcett?"

"Sir… that's the sort of decision you're qualified to make and I'm not. Er… may I have a few days to think about it?"

Vance smiled thinly. "Forty-eight hours maximum, McGee."

"Thank you, Sir."

As Tim headed for the door, the Director added, "Remember me to DiNozzo - I'll be interested to hear what he thinks, let me know. And by the way, one of the posts I need somebody to take up is in Seattle."

o0o0o

"Well hell, yeah, Tim, of course we'd like you to be that much nearer to us… pick the one that's best for you, though."

"So I should leave Gibbs' team, then."

"You've done eighteen months of the loyalty thing… and now you're telling me he's getting worse. There. Is. Nothing you can do about it… I used to tell myself all the time that I'd find the answer, but you know I never did."

"Mmm… did I tell you, he still asks about you sometimes? If your name comes up some other way, he'll ask if you're OK. He never wants to hear any details… I think he just wants to know you're still alive, and he didn't kill you."

Tony frowned, and made one of those quantum leaps he used to do all the time. "Hell… Tim, you think he wants _forgiveness_ , or something? He wants me to tell him it's all right, but no way in hell would he ask? Tim, do you think he should come here? Does he actually _know_ about here?"

"No, he doesn't. I'd tell him stuff if he asked, but you know he doesn't."

"Get him to look at the website… no, we know he won't do that either. I'll send you some stuff. And ask for some time off before you take up your new post. Come out and visit. Unless it's Seattle of course, then you can come over all the time. It's only three hundred and fifty miles!"

A few days later, Gibbs was observed sitting at his desk, intently reading something that had been placed there earlier. He didn't speak, and barely moved for almost an hour, until Ziva and Fawcett were both burning with curiosity. Tim wasn't – he was the one who'd put it there. When Gibbs went up to MTAC, they both dived across to his desk. There was a small information pack for a place called 'Moose Lodge', but what got their attention most was a copy of a newspaper article:-

 _ **New Retreat opens in Cubbin, BC**_

 _The whole town of Cubbin tuned out yesterday, for the opening of Moose Lodge, a retreat and recuperation centre converted from the old hunting lodge on the eastern side of the town. The lodge had lain empty for more than five years, and although a use had been sought, none had been found until the idea of a retreat was mooted. The historic building was becoming an eyesore, and was in danger of demolition._

 _The Lodge is primarily intended for law officers from Canada or the USA, recovering from sickness or injury, but will be open to anyone who has need of it. The Lodge has rooms for twelve guests, and offers many activities, from painting to archery and wildlife hikes. The only hunting permitted, however, is with a camera!_

 _The whole town has taken an active interest in the project, which was the brainchild of two residents of Cubbin, Tony and Tay DiNozzo, seen here with their four month old son Zachary, Mayor Bob Clifford, and an enthusiastic crowd._

Ziva and Fawcett, (who realised he was looking at the legendary DiNozzo about whom everyone talked with either fond memories or stories that were surely too tall to be true,) stared at the picture. Tony looked out of the photo, tanned and fit, hair lightened by the sun, and sporting a light pirate beard. His arm was round the shoulders of a small, attractive First Nations woman, and a curious little boy with his father's green eyes sat in a sling in front of him. The Mayor was sharing a joke with them as he prepared to cut a red ribbon across the door of the newly restored building.

 _Tony is a helicopter pilot, and Tay a ranger, both working for the Canadian National Parks Service; they, and the citizens of Cubbin, hope that Moose Lodge will provide rest and healing for its visitors, for many years to come._

Two weeks later, the Lodge's shuttle bus, arriving from the airfield, disgorged three passengers. They were ushered into the lobby, where two of them were welcomed and conducted to their rooms by the manager. The third stood looking stiffly round for a moment, until he spotted the tall man standing to one side, waiting to greet him.

"Uh… DiNozzo."

"Hello, Gibbs," Tony said gently. "Welcome to Moose Lodge."

 **AN: Done. Going to be up to my nurdles in work for the museum for a while, but I think there _may_ be one or two more short tales left in this collection.**


End file.
